 
Cowgirl

Thrillers

Books by Barbara Neville

Wind Blows Grass Grows Stars Twinkle Above

(Spirit Animal #10)

Wind Blows Grass Grows Stars Twinkle Above Large Print

Cowboy Dictionary

Cowboy Dictionary Large Print

Warriors' Woman (Spirit Animal #9)

Warriors' Woman Large Print

Broken Warrior (Spirit Animal #8)

Broken Warrior Large Print

Only the Strong Survive (Spirit Animal #7)

A Flash of Lightning (Spirit Animal #6)

A Flash of Lightning Large Print

Rogue Lightning (Spirit Animal #5)

Rogue Lightning Large Print

Off-Grid Planet (Spirit Animal #4)

Off-Grid Planet Large Print

Cowgirls Rock (Spirit Animal #3)

Cowgirls Rock Large Print

Cowgirls Just Wanna Have Fun (Spirit Animal #2)

Cowgirls Just Wanna Have Fun Large Print

On the Rocks (Spirit Animal #1)

On the Rocks Large Print

Boxed sets

Cowboy & Injin Mystery Spirit Animal Books 3 & 4)

Cowgirl Adventures (Spirit Animal Books 2 & 3)

Cowgirl Thrillers (Spirit Animal Books 1 & 2)
Cowgirl

Thrillers

by

Barbara

Neville

Copyright © 2015 Barbara Neville

This book is a work of fiction. Any mention of real people, places or historic events is used fictitiously. Names, characters, events and places are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real people, places or events is coincidence.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book all or in part.

Published by

Barbara Neville

Rancho Dos Osos

185 El Camino Real

Nogales, AZ 856215

Cover Photo ©2015 by Barbara Neville

Author Photo @2015 by Nancy Neville Cordell

All rights reserved.

# Contents

Books by Barbara Neville

On the Rocks

Description

Introduction

Free Download

1 Bogey Down

2 Lone

3 Backtrackin'

4 Compadres

5 Mañana

6 The Rock

7 Meet

8 Powwow

9 Jake's Joint

10 Mystory not History

11 Wilderness

12 Lookout

13 Exsanguination

14 Eureka!

15 Snuck

16 Dim Lights, Small City

17 Federales

18 Spud's Place

19 In the Midst of Battle

20 Lone's Sacred Duty

21 Tatonka

22 Next

23 Meanwhile Back at Camp

24 Line Shack

25 Evidence

26 Don Miguel

27 Lone's Camp

28 Spirits Speak

29 Nomadic Migration

30 Winter Quarters

31 Knock, knock

32 Ginger

33 Spaced Out

34 Shinin' Times

Cowgirls Just Wanna Have Fun

Description

Reviews

Acknowledgments

Dedication

Cowboy dictionary

Get on that Pony & Ride!

Remember

Introduction

Foreword

1 All in a Day's Work

2 Pass

3 Huzzah

4 Paradise

5 Pack Out

6 Time for Pi

7 A Piece of Pi

8 Outpost

9 Island

10 Buzz

11 Ventilated

12 The Plan

13 Booty

14 T'ree Forks

15 Just Fishin'

16 Bear

17 New Country

18 In the Buff

19 The Rope

20 The Noose

21 The Branch

22 Quench

23 Worlds

24 The Worst

25 B'ar

26 Paradise Lost

27 Spelunkers

28 Powers

29 Jakey Boy

30 Bãngh

31 Halvsies

32 A New Day

33 Bam

34 Wolf Bait

35 Bad

36 The Rub

37 Ugh

38 Deuce

39 Jingle Balls

40 Homeward Bound

41 Buzzards

42 Outlaw Trail

43 Nowhere

44 Backtrackin'

45 Night Riders

46 My Big Mouth

47 My Only Friends

48 Blast

Cowboy Dictionary

Get on that Pony & Ride!

Paperback Books by Barbara Neville

Thanks for reading!

About the Author

#

On

the

Rocks

by

Barbara

Neville

Copyright ©2014 Barbara Neville

Cover Photo Copyright ©2007 Fox Johnson

Cover design by Barbara Neville

This book is a work of fiction. Any mention of real people, places or historic events is used fictitiously. Names, characters, events and places are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real people, places or events is coincidence.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book all or in part.

Published by

Barbara Neville

Rancho Dos Osos

185 El Camino Real

Nogales, AZ 85621

### Dedicated to

### Nancy

### for asking the question.

### Thank you

### to my brave editors

### Nancy Neville Cordell

### &

### Anonymous Accomplice

### for the English lessons.

### Any remaining errors are my fault entirely.

### Description

Roxanne Rockefeller is a straight shooter who kicks butt, admires tight jeans, and loves life. On The Rocks introduces her as a young cowhand working the last of the fall roundup on a new range, gathering cattle and enjoying the quiet country. Just as the job is about to wind down, things get maybe a bit too exciting.

Annie and her equine companions trot us through a rollicking character driven western action adventure with an intriguing plot twist. Her story is for lovers of all things western and cowboy life in particular as she explores a vast and beautiful land.

On The Rocks is a thrilling ride through wildlife filled mountains and prairies with an assortment of boon and not so boon human and animal companions. Soaring vistas and grandiose themes draw the reader into a nostalgic and surprising world.

Introduction

I am Roxanne Rockefeller on the Rock.

I can explain that. Well, I can't explain what my parents were thinking. But I can explain the 5R star brand.

I am not actually from the Rock, just a rider on a new range. Here, in fact, for the Fall Roundup. I've rode roundup on many a range including: the Biscuit, the Onion, Chesterfield, Fossil Draw, and Mink Creek.

The Rock? Same job, new range.

Which makes me Roxanne Rockefeller, a Rookie on the Rock for Roundup.

Classic: The 5R Star.

Maybe I did inherit my parents' penchant for alliterative nonsense.

Folks call me Annie and as I tell my story remember: everything will be alright in the end.

If it is not alright, it is not yet the end.

Anyhoo, this here is my story and I am, by gods, stickin' to it.

## Get Connected

## Free Download

The adventure continues.

Sign up for my mailing list to get advance notice of new releases, autographed copy giveaway contests. Plus, download an excerpt of an upcoming book for free.

To get started, click on:

http://barbaraneville.launchrock.com/

### 1 Bogey Down

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" I whisper as I beat my hand quietly on the saddle horn. "Son of a bitch! Cocksucker! Motherfucking sonsabitches!" I wiggle and squirm and pull and push. "Damn, damn, damn, damn."

But I just can't get out.

"Damn it to hell," I murmur.

I am also runnin' out of cuss words. Excuse my French but this is a situation that pretty much has no more appropriate response.

I'll tell you what happened. As in so many stories of wrecks, it all started out with a borrowed horse. Sometimes things go okay on a borrowed horse, sometimes they don't. Horses are like people, no two are alike and people willing to loan you a horse are, well, human, so they may not be totally truthful about their horse's tiny or mighty quirks. And cowboys, well, they just like to have fun. A minor wreck? Good for a laugh around the campfire for years to come.

So when riding a loaner horse, bear all this in mind, because you may get a surprise. Like my first ride on Bogey.

It had been drizzling off and on for days. Cool, damp, overcast. A spot of sun was feeling good as Bogey and I mosey down the trail bringing the last of the cows home. Bogey and me are trailin' the cattle along towards camp, day dreamin' about hay and oats. I'm whistling a hopeful "On Top of old Bogey."

"Hope the sun comes out soon, Bogey. We wanna stay dry. Not looking like we will though. Good thing yore waterproof. Ain't fair that people don't have fur."

Bogey snorts, "Bbbbbbh."

"Nice that you agree."

Suddenly we hear shooting, way too close. Bogey and I get damn nervous...borrowed horse, like I said...so I have no idea how gun shy he is. First rule of horses: never let your mount know you are nervous, he'll get nervous too. Then he might panic. He depends on you, as the boss, to reassure him. If he doesn't know you are the boss, you just as well kiss your pretty ass goodbye. No tellin' what he'll do but, in my experience, it'll likely be bad.

So when I say Bogey and I get nervous, I'm kinda lyin'. You see, I may be nervous as all get out, pumped full of adrenaline, but if I ain't ready to rodeo, my entire being is relaxed. Every muscle, even my brain muscle, projects total calmness. It's pretty much like a Mexican standoff. I blink first and it could be head down, heels up, 'Adios, motherfucker.'

'Course, on the way inside of my being, I am not so relaxed. Not relaxed at all. I'm thinking: 'Shit, shit, shit,' but saying, "easy, Bogey, just a few firecrackers way off there. No problem, we'll just continue to mosey along quietly."

Don't help that the cows are also lifting their heads and looking nervous.

"Them cow critters are just sniffin' the air. Pay them no never mind. We'll be back to the feed bag in a bit here." I'm scanning the hills for the source of the shots.

The next several shots truly spook my cattle, which commence to hightail it out of the country.

"Easy, boy." Bogey is prancin' around some, but mostly keepin' his head.

Then a bullet whistles past my ear, a sound you never ever want to hear. I instantly have no problem gettin' spooked all to hell. Not that I let Bogey feel it. I calmly, quickly, lean forward, shake the reins and tap with my spurs.

"Hyaw, Bogey," I whisper, "let's get the hell out of here!" Bogey jumps into a full tilt boogey and we sprint off after the cattle.

We are runnin' flat out down the trail feelin' bullets, real or imaginary, hot on our ass. As we pass under a tree branch a shadow suddenly looms over us and...

Sheeit, the shadow jumps down and lands behind my cantle, on Bogey's ass. Shadow reaches around me, grabs the reins and pulls Bogey up in a sliding stop.

Then the ballsy bastard pulls a gun on me and says, "Git down, quick, I got this."

I jump off, mostly pushed, before the horse stops completely. I hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of me. Bogey and the horsejacker speed up toward the bandits. One shoots from cover and Shadow slides off to the side of Bogey, hanging on to the horn and a stirrup for a few strides like a' Injin. Then, he hops with one foot on the ground and, using the horse's momentum, vaults back into the saddle.

He and Bogey run on out of sight. I am left behind, stunned, laying in the muddy trail. Gooey, but mud's softer to land in than dirt, so I shouldn't complain. I do anyway, once I get some air back in my lungs.

"Son of a bitch!" I grumble.

"Oh, hell." I can hear another horse coming down the trail lickety split. I scramble under the nearest bush and curl up as small as possible, which ain't very small, just as another rider and horse shoot past my hiding place. As this dude passes he shoots at me.

'Bang, bang, bang.'

Hell, a bush ain't much cover. Geez.

So I roll around and get organized. Damn, my knee is wrenched all to hell. My back hurts, my shoulder probably ain't broke...maybe.

I finally get untangled from myself enough to draw my pistol.

The dude has already run on down to where Shadow on Bogey and another guy are shooting it out. The dude is coming up fast behind Bogey and leaning over as if to jump aboard. I draw a bead just at the last second before he is too close to Bogey. Don't want to hurt a good mount. Hell, Bogey's rider is wearing feathers and buckskin leggings, and no shirt...oooh...muscles. Is he, mayhaps, a' Injin?

I take a breath, drawing a bead on the dude on the runnin' horse just as he leans over to slide onto Bogey behind Shadow.

'Bam.'

The dude falls limp onto Bogey, slides off his ass and drops to the ground.

Truth is I'm a fair hand with a gun.

The action goes on out of sight. I hear shots still, but getting fainter.

Wait, the shots are getting louder again, they're coming back. They appear around the bend heading back towards me. Shadow is now hanging off the other side of Bogey, and he's reloading. How is that even possible? Crazy glue?

Bogey stumbles and Shadow finally comes off and rolls behind a tree. Bogey slows down. I run out and catch the reins, hop on, and head off down the way to look for the other assassin. Bogey and I go hell bent for leather around the bend, forgetting about the mud.

'Blam.'

Bogey's legs slide right out from under him.

***

I wake up in a daze. There I am, all alone, just me and Bogey, a motionless ton of horseflesh. Well, half a ton. They say a dead horse is cover. A live horse won't lay still. Not so with a good horse. Bogey is lying still as a statue. Only problem, he's lying on my leg.

Is it broke? Hard to say. Can't feel a thing. Leg totally numb. Might not be broke, if I'm lucky. Bogey ain't movin'. Shit. The thought occurs in my frazzled brain that maybe the horse is dead.

***

I had done this trick before in the mud, without the whistling bullet, as a raw 14 year old horse breaker. I had the same numb leg and my horse Joe was stunned by the fall then, too. But after a bit he stood up, kinda three leggedly. Definitely shaky. His near foreleg numbed too. After he perked up I reached over, pulled myself up by the stirrup and worked my way to the saddle horn. Wow, was my leg asleep. Joe and I had matching numbness. Fortunately, feeling slowly returned with circulation. Joe and I were no more than bruised up and right near the barn. So, no long ride home.

This was just about two years before I started my adult specialty of rounding up these damn cow critters out of the wildest country imaginable. Even though the weather can be good, bad, or worse, the country can be easy or hard, and like as not, no two days are alike, most days it's the best job in the world.

***

Riding the wild country is a fantastic escape from all the hustle and bustle of our modern world. No traffic, no worries, just you and your mount a'moseyin' down the trail.

A cow horse requires just enough concentration to keep you from getting bogged down in all the Troubles you left at home this morning. A good horse runs on autopilot, but Murphy and his inescapable Law are always waiting right around the bend with a surprise, just like the gunshots. There's no guessing which way your mount will jump if things go haywire.

Bogey and I could be just loafing along, minding our own business, keepin' a sharp eye on those cattle. Even if they had walked enough miles they had decided pretty much to stay together and stay ahead of us and we hadn't had a herd quitter for an hour or so, you dasn't fall asleep. Tired cows can get spooked even easier, bein' half asleep on the job theirselves. Late in the day this makes for a sleepy naptime combination 'specially after a long hard morning of runnin' those quitters in out of the brush.

Even if I was alert to the unexpected, as any horseman must, and Bogey was maybe idling along with eyes barely open, don't let it fool you. A top notch cow horse like Bogey? When he has a job to do like moving cows, he don't shirk it. One ear is always cocked toward his bovine charges, even when he's loafin'.

The unexpected, that's what gets you killed. A flock of quail flushing from under a bush at your horse's feet, a sudden sound, a snake, a runnin' animal; any of those and a thousand things you never thought of can set a horse to buckin' or runnin'. Now a seasoned mountain horse like Bogey or Spike is pretty used to birds flushing and wild game, but a paper blowing across their trail or a flash of white, the spookiest color, and 'Woo Hoo,' it might be a rodeo. Which he will pick to spook at depends on the horse and the instance. Horses hate the unexpected. Flight kicks in first. Thoughts of fight? Not so much. The Chaos Theory is in full effect in the world of horses.

I was lucky Bogie had been so steady in the face of bullets that were loud, scary, and lethal all rolled into one. Hell of a horse.

***  
I have been forced into idleness by circumstance. Moving or making noise may shorten my lifespan and my concussed brain? Damn fuzzy.

Thank the gods that some words have been declared expletives. They are but innocent words. Their synonyms are allowed. Funny, really, how one word which means exactly what another means is not allowed in 'mixed' company and, in some circles, not allowed at all if there is any other person present.

In my younger years, I resented the fact that some words were considered by polite society to be, well, bad. Bad words! It's like reprimanding a recalcitrant dog. Bad, bad words! Stop entering my mind. Why were these innocent combinations of letters so irredeemably scorned? Plus as all kids know, there is the double standard of Adult Language. Adults can say it, you second class child citizens better not.

I have finally matured enough to realize that these expletives, however innocent, serve as a relief valve for both the explosive personality and the not so explosive, which I believe includes the most of us. And you can also shock the socks off of well-bred town folks. What, me? Would I do that?

I certainly do love my expletives. Were they not to exist I would have killed many a man, woman, dog, cow, horse...you know what I mean, for you, after all, are only human too.

Let us honor the prophet George Carlin and his famous seven sacred words. Funny, them are seven of my favorites!

All hail the men who invented such a fabulous relief valve! Where would we be without them? And who among ye would throw the first stone?

***

I wake up. Damn, was I dreamin' again? Dizzy, head hurts. Damn, don't say 'ow' out loud, girl.

Things stay quiet. Seems like forever. Did I say that before? I have no recall of exactly what has happened to get me in this situation. Did Bogey trip, or get shot? Not sure if it's been seconds, minutes or hours. It is muddy and a mite cold. Where did that adrenaline go?

Bogey is passed out now for sure. Hopefully not almost dead. Many a skeleton has been found trapped under their fallen horse. There's a long slow way to die. I dasn't move my hand down to even check for a pulse in his neck, what with the fear of outlaws laying up and watching for any movement in my vicinity. My heart is apoundin' to beat the band. It is hard to separate that from any heartbeat that may be emanatin' from Old Boge.

As the sun sets, I begin to hear wolves howling. Oh great, good news.

Bogey and me are the perfect bait. Quite a large tasty meal for a pack of wolves. Yes it is true I am very sweet and tasty, not to mention hot and sexy. In retrospect, a strange train of thought for someone with only five .45 caliber bullets left in my weapon. It might turn into hand to tooth combat if the wolf pack is more than five.

Shit. I suddenly remember. Armed enemies are lurking nearby, so I dare not start working on getting Bogey off my numb leg. I am also pretty concerned about the leg. Is the circulation cut off? Will I live to care? I am truly caught between a rock and a crazy place.

Seems like I really am a mite depressed. I am usually in perfect spirits, ready to rock and roll as they say. "Oh lord won't you buy me a magnificent young stud...what the?"

Suddenly a large hand covers my mouth. Caught totally unawares, I shit a big fucking brick. The hand keeps me from yellin' out. So I bite it. Defensive reflex.

"Unhh," a quiet groan.

Another hand appears with three fingers held in front of my face. Then some pointing with the index finger, which I figure means that there are three enemies about. Then the pointing hand levers me up and goes down to my holster to relieve me of my sidearm. Shit! What the hell is this? Double crossin' bastard.

He moves behind me and out of the corner of my eye I can see him toss the sawbuck off my pack horse, Jake, onto the ground. Then I hear Jake jump into a run and move across my vision with the now gun and horsejacker miraculously glommed onto his back. He has fashioned a hank of rope Injin style through Jake's mouth and under his chin, giving him just one rein for steerin'.

I see a gallopin' blur as Jake and his new rider head back up the trail hell bent for election. The rider is bent over the saddle. It looks like that Shadow fella from earlier with long black hair waving in the wind. There is a lot of waiting, enough that I begin to wonder if it is a ruse. Has he stolen my pistol, joined his outlaw compadres and left the country?

I am left with only the five shot derringer in my boot holster and my pocket knife still pinned down under my side. I normally carry two pocket knives: one for skinning and other precision work, like surgery, in my left front pocket. The other knife is a coarse utility blade, part toothed, part smooth and sharp, that I carry in my right rear pocket. Unfortunately, I had forgot and left the utility blade on a rock by the campfire this morning. Works great fer whittlin' bacon.

I hear two shots.

I am still stayin' still on the ground in hopes no one will notice me. Bogey's body kinda dictates that. Seems like maybe three enemies are about.

Bogey takes a deep breath and shifts a bit. The ensuing pain brings back my reality. Fuckin' A it does. Oh, doggies, it hurts. Maybe it's good news. Pain is a reminder I might live another day. But I truly have stepped in the deep shit and got stuck hard.

At least this guy has left me alive though, whoever he is.

Suddenly I hear a volley of shots and the brush a poppin'. Three horses emerge from the trees and head up the trail toward me. Jake is in the middle gaining ground fast on the lead rider. Shots are flying from both directions, but the horsejacker has slid over onto Jake's side and is riding on the far right side of the road, shooting at the other two from under Jake's neck.

Hid in the brush more or less and lookin' out from under, I hope to not be spotted and rubbed out. My derringer is too short barreled to shoot with any long range accuracy. If anyone comes close, however, I'll have 'em dead to rights. Oh, not so much, it's stuck in my boot under Bogey. I have at least learned that Jake's rider is no friend of the guys who shot at me. He is the same guy who was shootin' at them before, ain't he?

As they approach, Jake is catching up fast on the lead rider. The horsejacker hops over onto the lead bad guy's horse and I can see a big ass bowie knife being proffered. The knife flashes and slashes around with both hombres having a hold on it.

Then the third rider catches up and jumps on, too. The poor overloaded horse staggers once, then humps up and lets 'er blow: still runnin', also buckin' and sunfishin'. How he stays head over feet I'll never know. The struggle is on as they arm wrestle atop the crazed, buckin' mustang who was likely never broke to ride triple. My horsejacker seems to have a hold, but it's tough to tell who's winning. I can see as they disappear a big streak of red blood headed back along the horse's flank. Just as the horse rounds the bend to go out of sight, they tumble off and roll across the trail, yelling to beat the band.

A big brawl ensues and since they are still in sight I stay quiet and try to rub the pain in my hip away.

Finally the bout of knife and fisticuffs sends them totally out of sight. Maybe I will luck out and be able to get this big stupid horse off of me now and find one of the other guys horses who ran off and catch him so I can get back to my camp. I don't want to have to sit here all night with no food or bedding. Definitely need fire before it gets too cold. Yep, a warm fire would hit the spot about now, although Bogey is still putting out heat. Once I get out from under him, brrr. I wrap my arms around his neck to catch all the heat I can while I await resolution.

### 2 Lone

Today being my special day, I am dressed to kill in my finest work duds. Hair on sheep skin chaparejos over my blue jeans, my best leather vest over my snap shirt. Fancy stitched boots in the Paul Bond tradition. Fox Johnson style big ass rowels on my spurs, her handsmithed German silver conchos on her hand tooled spur straps. And my big brown five gallon (yes, I am shitting you) hat. Hell, where do they get those gallon measurements? When it comes to watering a horse, mine actually only holds a quart and some. I am all duded up as the party is set for tonight over the campfire if and when I get there. It is so far turning out to be a heck of a 21st birthday for me.

In any case, I'm slicked up and lookin' mighty purty. Armament wise, before Shadow stole it, I had my .45 Colt on my hip. I still have my backup .25mm derringer in my boot top holster, under Bogey. My skinnin' knife, where else? In my pocket. My matching .45 Colt rifle is in the saddle scabbard. I have, however, left my grenades at camp.

A girl generally wants to be prepared. But I didn't feel the need for grenades whilst a chousin' cows through the brush. Not that I haven't considered the need a time or two. When those really wild suckers escape and brush up on me, a grenade would sure light a little fire under their tails! But mebbe also start a real range fire, not to mention barbeque their asses. My employer mightn't nought 'preciate me burning up their grass.

Of course, now I was questioning my no grenades while cowboyin' policy. What with the shooting I had just encountered, and the shooters just a long lob away, I had been feelin' mighty grenade poor then, and hell, who knew where they were now. They could be layin' up anywhere. Lobbin' a few firecrackers might roust 'em out. Yee Haw!

Back in the early 1800s the Mountain Men used to always carry their long rifle across their lap when they were in hostile territory. I, being a stranger hereabouts, just follered ever'one else as to state of alert. I thought we had nothin' to rustle up but cows. Hence the rifle rode in my saddle scabbard leaving my hands free for steerin' and ropin' if need be. Shit, did I pass out?

***

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'. My 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'

In retrospect, maybe a job in this particular country hadn't been the best idea. Probably why the pay is so pure damn good.

Sure is pretty country though, the finest kind of country. Big mountains, steep enough to pucker up your ass cheeks whilst riding across steep seemingly bottomless slopes on frozen ice slick ground, sidehilling on tiny tilted cow trails gathering cows. Country with beautiful pine, spruce and aspen forests on the high flanks; and sagebrush in the valleys. Country that grows fat calves on plentiful grass. Country I was thinkin' I could peacefully settle down in afore it had got fractious a few moments back. So much for peace and quiet.

We had started out a force of 25 cowhands hired to round up a couple thousand head of ornery longhorn cattle. Their summer range encompasses round about 40,000 acres of pure damn wild country. We had searched for cows, calves and bulls. Well over 2000, in fact, as a cow and her new calf are counted as one pair rather than two animals. And most of the cows hopefully have a calf by their side. The lease is for 2000 cows. Calves being born into that year are not counted, and the calves are the money end of the operation. Fifty bulls fall on top of that too, as their job is creating those money making calves. No plan of the prime purebred bulls becoming meat.

Anyhow we had made a bunch of figurative circles through the numerous canyons, filled with sage brush in the dry bottoms and willow brush, thick and tough to ride through, in the creek bottoms. Up high, lodgepole pine and Doug fir for forest, speckled with quakies, our name for quaking aspen, in thickets. Beautiful on the outside but dark, nasty, twisted pecker pole mazes on the inside. We had rode over and looked at each square foot of the whole country in the course of about a month. A lot of it twice or thrice.

So thick are the groves of quakies that the sun seems to almost not penetrate. However, a more beautiful sight you will not see than the fall color of the aspen leaf. Yeller, orange, bright pure red, even a lovely mauve, every tree having its own varying and unique shades of beauty, and the super hardy trees still showing quite a bit of bright green, even after the early frosts, though not for long. Truly a pure color mosaic for my hungry eyes. We would even find cattle clear up in the high mountaintops above the tree line, aforagin' for the alpine feed.

Each pair or so of us cowhands did a half day or day long circle of our allotted share of this range, follerin' the orders of the Ramrod. We brought our cattle bunches together day by day in a larger and larger gather. Generally we could get them into a big canyon where they would settle and graze and loaf overnight until our morning return. If they didn't settle we would leave a couple of hands to ride nighthawk and serenade.

After we had the most of them found, we circled them loosely up and sorted out each rancher's stock in order to get them to their respective home ranches. We split up and delivered each cattleman's bunch or several ranches' brands together, if their ranches were in the same direction. All through the gather we had a continuing loss of a few mavericks who would quit the herd and head for the brush. They would hightail it when they thought no one was looking, and by golly if we weren't lookin' or our mount hesitated a half a step, they were gone! No brush, however thick or prickly, would stop them. They just knew that there was some grass they needed to get et up before shippin' out. Also, they figured hiding in the brush would save them from us boogedy bears. They surely had no liking for losin' their freedom to roam.

Just the pure love of being wild and free up in that open country, few fences and hardly ever a human to bother their pastoral lifestyle, who wouldn't warm up to that idea? I sure was thinkin' hard on it. My kind of lonesome land. No one to tell you what to do, just the whisper of the aspen leaves in the breeze. This was my first trip to the Rock and it was more than pleasing to my eyes. Better than I could have even imagined. Hell, peopled with good lookin' cowboys to boot.

After all the cattle we had gathered and range cut were delivered to be sorted between being shipped to market or moved to winter range, we back rode for the laggards for another 14 days. Some days it is the thankless job of the cowboy: low wages, nasty weather, worse weather, rough terrain, ornery critters, and occasionally contrary horses.

Main gather done, the Ramrod sent most all of the hands home. I was alone, crossing the range for one last ride on my spare horse, Bogey. My partner, Michael, had split out the other direction this morning doing a circle of his own. Michael was a seasoned hand. I grew up in ranchin', but both he and myself were rookies on this range.

My main equine partner was Spike. A cowhand generally had two or three steady mounts and a couple half broke cayuses for a job like this. Dependin' on their age and physical condition, each one had a half or full days rest on a regular basis, this being long hours of work in rough terrain.

Life doesn't always go according to plan. Seriously, does it ever go according to plan?

I seem to be too cold to think straight.

I pull into camp after too long a ride over hill and canyon in the pitch dark, what with the clouds and pouring rain obscuring the full moon I had hoped to use to see. I am cold, wet, shiverin', and hypothermic. Horses have fur and live outside, so Bogey is warm, comfy and in his element, as he is in most any weather. And like all horses, he always knows the way home. Which is good, 'cause he's been in the driver's seat. I am just a' hangin' on.

"Damn, a hot fire's gonna feel good, old horse."

Bogey just nods. Nice thing about talkin' to your animals, they never talk back. Don't know if you ever noticed; when a horse walks, his head nods continually up and down. It's him sayin', 'Yes, ma'am, I agree, whatever you say.' He's the best.

Fortunately, Bogey has been sending some much appreciated horse heat up my way on the ride. Getting off and leaving that horse heat with no fire built and chores to do was gonna be tough. Usually we had banked up coals left in the pit, but the rain had snuck in on us and fixed that.

I slide off old Bogey and..."Shit!"...crash all the way down to the dirt. My bruised and beaten body has stiffened up considerable during the long ride. By the time I unsaddle, grain and turn Bogey loose, I have regained not my pride but at least my composure. I limp and gimp over to the fire pit intent on heat, shelter from the rain and a warm meal.

I am getting out my matches with numb fingers when I hear hoof beats.

### 4 Compadres

Fortunately I have a hot, dry buddy to warm my bones, who I see is just pullin' in to camp. When I can be sure it's him, I holster my sidearm.

"Hey, compadre!"

"I'd have shot you if I hadn't recognized Boot's blaze in the firelight."

"I'd a' shot back, young lady."

"Good thing you can't hit the side of a barn, Michael."

"Hey, just 'cause I'm swish don't mean I can't hit the bulls eye. In fact, it means I get more practice."

"At what?"

"Hitting my target." Michael flips his wrist and his bangs. What a partner. Well, one of us needs to be ultra-feminine, might as well be Michael, he's a natural. He may be gay, but it don't make him any less of a top hand. He's all cowboy at work.

After seeing to his horse, Michael saunters over to the fire and gets a good look at my cold, sorry, bruised up person. "What the hell happened to you? You look like a tree fell on you and knocked you in the creek. You're shivering.

"I'll start a fire and heat the stew You go get those wet clothes off, find some blankets and wrap up."

During a celebration of life with a shot of medicinal pain killer, I tell Michael what took place with the shooters and Wolf, the amazing life saver.

Michael informs me, "I ran into three cows and a bull just over that last ridge and run them in. Must have been the bunch you lost."

"Did you hear the commotion?"

"Not a sound."

"You were likely singin' one a them off tune cowboy songs and missed it all."

"Off tune?"

I laugh and say, "Yep." Actually Michael is the lead singer in a hoppin' cowboy band. Way good singer.

"Back to my story. Wolf is big, good looking and does a first class job of painting a pony. Tight little ass on him too."

"Oh sweetie, that means he's gotta be married. What man can paint a pony up real pretty and not have been caught by a woman?"

"Is everyone I know a smartass?"

"Pretty much, girlfriend. Have yourself some stew."

After a bowl or three of stew, and a few more medically indicated shots, we curl into our bedrolls. We are heated by the coals. I am mostly dry and starting to warm up some. We snuggle up in our fire warmed lean-to for the duration.

### 5 Mañana

We are sound asleep, me nicely warmed by Michael's body heat. We had been cuddling like lovers, ha-ha, well at least best friends, all night. Actually, I ain't had nothing twixt my thighs but my fingers, hell, nigh on a year. But Michael and I have once again proven that the only sure backwoods cure for hypothermia is warm naked cuddlers sharing a sleeping bag. I am warm as toast at last. I drift back off to sleep.

"White Eyes, wake it up!"

Michael and I spring up, weapons drawn from under our saddles. We use 'em fer pillows. Saddles with guns underneath, comfy.

"Holy shit, Lone Wolf, you ever heard of 'halloing' the camp? We coulda shot you," I say.

"Yeah, if you had heard me comin'. Red man very stealthy."

"It's too early, couldn't you wait 'til sunup?"

"Look, lady, who is this dude, your husband?"

"I'd rather be your husband, handsome," says Michael.

"Why he in same blankets as you if not husband? Him shape changer?"

"No, him more like sex changer or some such. If you stand too close his flipping wrist will break your nose." I really think I am funny.

And to Michael I say, "Geez, Michael, I know you aren't one to hide in the closet, but did you ever think maybe you'll declare your undying love for this blood thirsty redskin and he'll turn out to be a gay basher and knife you?"

"And you think saying this in front of long, tall and handsome here is politic?" says Michael.

"He maybe knifed three guys yesterday, saving my bacon. Maybe he also don't like gays."

"In fact, Annie, Native American people are known for their tolerance of gays," declares Michael.

"Only in Little Big Man, Michael. This is real life, not Hollywood history."

"Hey kids, red man standing right here. And saving your bacon was a coincidence, they maybe needed killing. But then maybe they actually left the country before I got around to killing them. If I had killed them, it wouldn't have been for you. My buddy Bogey was in danger."

"Gotta love a man who puts his horse first." I smile and bat my eyes. "Lone Wolf, meet Michael, my partner."

"How, white man."

"Pleasure, handsome."

"You come over to get your nag, Wolf?" I ask.

"I come to make you my woman, if Mr. Michael here will allow it."

"Oh shit, Wolf, it isn't a case of letting. Annie runs her own life." Michael always defends me, like I need it. "She'd knock me flat if I tried to tell her anything. You don't know Annie if you think she would be anyone's woman."

"Mr. Michael?" I say. "You make him sound like some high falutin' big city hair salon artiste."

Wolf looks at me. "White woman, I need a woman to catch a rat. I need one who is mean as a snake and not too smart. You seem to fit that description."

"She'll do it," says Michael.

"Michael, you just said you would never tell me what to do."

"I ain't tellin', I'm volunteerin' you. This nice lookin' feller needs a woman. Mean, not smart. It's you to a tee. Plus, you're the only woman here."

"Men!"

So, unbeknownst to us, thus began one of the great collaborations of our time.

***

Breakfast is bacon, eggs, and biscuits with great coffee. All are as delicious as advertised. We eat with the gusto of those who have lived to see another day, no time to talk between mouthfuls. Just savor.

We admire the creek, the forest and our tidy camp. After a rest to digest we start thinking on our future.

Curiosity gets the better of me. "Hey Wolf, who were those guys you run off or was it just plain offed yesterday? Why were you fightin' them?"

"Hell no. I wasn't fightin' them. They were shootin' at each other and everything else they saw. As far as this Injin could tell, none of them could hit the side of a barn. I just run in to help y...uh, Bogey. Damn good horse, he stayed right down to my whistle in all that commotion. I got you to lay still, then I got shed of them."

"Any idea what they were shootin' over?"

"Injin business."

"I finally get a paragraph out of you then you clam up."

"I can handle it, don't need no help."

"Hey, if you do need help, remember, I like danger. I live for danger."

'Bang. Bang. Bang.'

"Shit, duck, this sounds dangerous." Okay, maybe I don't live for danger.

"Yeah, you should know," says Wolf.

"Again," I say.

"This is getting old," says Wolf. Then he sneaks a peek.

'Bang.' Another shot.

"Shit! Fuckin' bushwhackers, still out there."

After we hit the dirt, run for cover and all that, it quiets down and we eventually decide that the potshotter has hit the road.

"I'll go check for sign," Wolf offers.

We reconnoiter and all we discover is that Wolf's hat has a nice clean hole, clear through just above his skull. The bullet actually clipped off a few black head hairs. It seems that we are in the fight whether any of us like it or not. It has become our business, too, as far as the bad guys figure, for certain sure.

"You sure there is no story here, Wolf?"

"You white folks will think I am a crazy Injin."

I laugh.

"Seriously, Annie. You might think I'm mad. I'd of questioned your judgment if you didn't."

"Hell Lone, I already suspected it. When I saw you hanging off a horse and firing my six shooter under his neck, twice."

"Yesterday was a sure 'nough venture into the stinky black swamp of life," replies Wolf.

"You fit right in with the rest of us crazies. We're all here 'cause we don't really fit in in town. Don't actually want to either," says Michael. "I had a heck of a time trying to get out of the closet back in the city. I never did, too many scary gay bashers. But as soon as I figured out I really didn't want to be a straight man and a law dog no less, I went over the edge. According to my 'friends' at least. I ditched that life, followed my childhood dream and become a cowhand.

"Cowboys, I found, don't care whether I am brown or white, straight or gay, wearing a kilt or cowboy boots. All they care about is that I pull my weight. And supply a few laughs along the way. For a cowhand the only virtues are patience, tolerance and humility. Thank the gods my momma got me horse riding lessons as a kid. Saved my bacon. Woman was a saint."

"Mother worship. Yep, yore gay," I say. A girl's gotta see the humor in life.

### 6 The Rock

Actually, they ain't much in the way of old paper bound books nowadays, what with the book burnings and general massive destruction in the times of Troubles, but the moniker has stuck around. My saddlebags are full of all the important cowboy info that I have picked up and scribbled down in my travels around the Cosmos. Most have come down passed by word of mouth. But the story goin' around these days is that a recorded history exists. Books or such. There is still a few about, they say.

The Hollywood journals have been the subject of much speculation since the Troubles which pretty much blew the world as our ancestors knew it clear to hell. Or as my Great Grand pappy used to say, 'Earth went to hell in a starship and never come back.'

Fortunately, the Troubles didn't get real bad until after mankind had moved out into the galaxies and terraformed a shitload of planets. Some of Earthkind figured out that the shit was hitting the fan and blasted out to new frontiers. Some planets were colonized by the government. Then what they did was send unwanted criminals (being killers, murderers, rapists, druggers, rebels, anyone who disagreed with their politics and all of them what didn't fit into their idea of advanced and enlightened civilization) off in flying space boats to the less desirable worlds, as had governments on Earth past sent their criminals to empty continents. Cheaper than penning them up in prisons and feeding and guarding them.

What with all the shooting and bombs and killin', not many folks survived. We were left with most of our information, libraries, web centers, cities being gone, towns too. Hell, history was lost.

But then as things got more organized on the new planets where the oldsters had moved after the destruction of Earth, folks began to use their minds to bring the past back to life. Families would sit and reminisce around the campfire and tell all they had heard from the ancient stories told by the oldsters. People finally got to the point that societies could support scribers to listen, remember, and start writing again, getting what we was left of human knowledge scribbled down.

I myself have spent many a night around the campfire listenin' to the stories of how my 19th century heroes lived and worked. I am fascinated with the Taming of the West. My people way back then took a big part in the whole deal, bein' cowboys and cattlemen theirselves. Trappin', rounding up wild cows, driving huge herds of cattle acrost continents to settle new land, huntin', homesteadin', and gen'rally livin' a hard fought life in a tough primitive world where your scalp was nary more than a trophy to the local folk.

And my partner Michael is a kindred spirit.

When Michael and I heard about the Rock, with not too many people and a whole passel of cowboys and cattle work, we was itching to join up. We were ready for new country and this sounded like a place worth checkin' out. So we worked a season, saved up some travelin' money and signed on for the wilderness roundup.

The Rock was built by outsiders, by people who came from someplace else giving the best of theirselves, hoping to make this the greatest planet in the Cosmos.

Rock folks may or may not have a lot of book learnin', eddication being every person's private choice.

Here on the Rock we are reliving the Old West. With the wilderness rules we have to conquer many of the same obstacles raising the cattle and living a fairly, for our time, primitive existence. 'Course once we drive the herds to the transport centers, like the MadDog town on the coast, we exit the edge of the wilderness and move into more modern space transport. Not that we see very modern anything very often, being out here at the edge of the Cosmos, light years from the central supply lines.

On the flip side of the coin is the Center, the Center of the Cosmos and the center of the Centrist government. Now, 'they' say, everyone can enjoy the comfort and enlightenment of Centrist Civilization.

Savage outer planets are considered not so enlightened since we refuse Centrist control.

Centrists are in the Center, the middle of the road and the center of the Cosmos, claiming to have finally accomplished what the donkeys and elephants had clamored to do in the 21st century. They call it peace and prosperity. We call it mind control and total domination by the Centrist overlords. It is a puppet theater the 'Benevolent Council' foists on the unsuspecting public.

The philosophical question?

Civilization: Good, bad or ugly?

***

After a reconnoiter, Wolf returns. "Shootin's over, I'll make more coffee. White man always screw it up."

"I'll let it slide this time cutie, but next time I will prove beyond a doubt that gay men make the best coffee." Michael conceited? Not much.

What an egotistical duo they make.

"Hell boys," I say. "We gotta beat cleats. Forget the coffee."

"You still need Bogey?"

I grin and say, "Naw, I got a polite horse who won't fall on my leg."

Michael and I walk out into the grassy park and whistle up our horses. While we saddle up we ponder on the events of yesterday.

"We are headed out to move those cows that got spooked by the shooters yesterday."

"That fall probably saved your life, and yore leg is mostly just fine," ventures Wolf. "That bullet whistled right over the top of you and likely hit a tree. I'da had time to have recovered the lead, melted it and recast the bullet while you were napping there."

"You were there?"

"Yep, after I hit the dirt I lay still, but no one seemed to be in sight so I crawled away from the trail and circled down to where you were layin'."

"How long was I out?"

"Long enough for them boys to almost get away," says Wolf. "I got there in time to shut you up, so they didn't hear you moving and realize they hadn't killed you. If they do figure out you survived, they might want to finish the job."

"What the heck are they up to that they are feeling the need to kill off innocent cowpokes?"

"Maybe they are not too smart, don't realize you were minding your own business," says Michael. "When folks are up to no good they can get mighty suspicious of everyone around."

"Yep, make even a' Injin nervous about being out and about. My day will be spent backtrackin' these rubes, see where they came from and where they were headed. Too bad someone drove a herd of cattle right down the trail and covered their tracks so good."

"Hey, you Injins are supposed to be top notch trackers. Not to mention that their horses are likely shod, and Bogey ain't."

"So you saw their sign yesterday?"

"Some, here and there along the way. Bein' behind the cows myself, I only saw an occasional bit of a track, but I first spotted the traffic about two miles below where you run in and tried to scalp me."

"Shit, lady, if I'da been scalpin' you'd be a slick skulled squealin' pig today. Wolf finish any job him start."

"And I mightily appreciate yore not takin' it, I'm pure damn fond of this fine scalp. It is beautiful and keeps my head parts warm to boot," I say. My lapses into cowboy rhetoric seemed to be spawned by Wolf's Injin brief speak. We make a complimentary pair. And, by the by, he is still hot. My girlie parts is a tinglin'.

"Thanks for the 'loan' of Bogey, Wolf. And the savin' of my neck yesterday.

"And my 'hardly hurt' leg hurts like a son of a bitch, thanks for asking."

Wolf laughs and rides off, ponying Bogey.

Michael and I continue on out into the draw.

"Oh, sweetie, I have died and gone to heaven! That hottie is the man of my dreams. I will never want another," say I.

"I'll bet he is sooo buff under those buckskins," says Michael.

"No freakin' way, Michael. You just hold your horses buddy, that Injin isn't gay. He is without a doubt my dream lover."

"He was making eyes at me all through breakfast, sweetie."

"He was staring at you flouncing around the fire, flaming to beat the band. And I do mean you flaming, not the fire. He likely never saw such a display, bein' a' uneducated backwoods savage." Just going with the fantasy out loud there.

Unable to resolve our dispute over the man of our mutual dreams, we hit the draw and head out to get that boogery bunch of cows that I had lost and Michael had found yesterday.

### 7 Meet

Now where my big wreck had took place was about halfway down the big creek known, no shit, as Dead Horse Draw. If I believed in coincidences I'd a' been even more worried yesterday.

Dead Horse runs for a few miles from the high top snowy mountains down to the small pasture where we put our daily gathers. Now with the small lots we are picking up on the back rides, time permitting, we move them on through the small pasture into the corrals. Saves us some time when we are ready to head out, but then we have to throw them some hay if they stay penned up too long. And hay has to be growed. You may have heard the truth, cowhands are allergic to farmin'.

Partway down Dead Horse there is a narrowing of the hills on each side called Badger Canyon for about a half mile which opens back out to the small Holding Canyon pasture which is a less narrow defile maybe a half mile square. It works great for holding the herd overnight.

The head of Badger Canyon is where the shootout had occurred, just where it narrows to about 50 foot wide. So when I get to the beginning of Badger, holy cow I start sweatin'. Lightning truly has been known the strike the same place twice.

My thighs grip tight to the saddle all on their own. Fortunately Spike is not a worrier. I consciously relax my muscles and say a short prayer to the animal spirits. "Easy buddy, take it easy."

Nothing untoward occurs for the first 100 yards in.

"Things are lookin' good, Spike."

Okay, I admit it, Spike is calm. It's me I'm trying to convince.

I about crap my pants when I hear a twig snap. Instantly my pistol is in my hand.

Wolf's voice comes 'halloin' out of the brush.

I breathe again.

"Uh huh, figured you would be a shoot first, ask questions later type gal."

"Son of a bitch, I just about was! If you hadn't yelled when you did..."

"Paleface, if I'd been layin' for ya you would have never heard the shot that killed you."

"I was hoping that yesterday was just happenstance. It sure left me jumpy."

"Lookin' at the sign I'd say they got a regular deal comin' up here. We'll know more if we can track them past your cow tracks. You find your cow critters?"

"Naw, looks like just one cow and her little calf must have spooked. They are likely further down where Michael will pick them up. I ain't cut no sign newer than yesterday."

"Well cowgirl, you partner up with me, we can figure out if the outlaws are stealin' things."

"What have you got to do with it, Wolf?"

"I poke in to things."

"Why poke in to things?"

"To satisfy my curiosity. Once my curiosity is satisfied I am calm. When I am calm my thoughts are pure."

"Now that is definitely Injin talk."

"Actually I think it has its origins with the other Injins, the India Indians. It is Zen."

"Ah.

"You Injins got valuables?"

"Would that we did. Mm, maybe. Not business of white girl."

"I'm the one they shot at, hurt my feelin's and some body parts. I am actually part Kioway and Osage, not just white."

"Hmm." Wolf looks me up and down. "Tall, like Osage, but you not look Injin."

That got my back up. "Oh yeah, what does a' Injin look like? You racial profiling, Injin? Just 'cause you are darker brown."

"Haw, just pulling your leg. Haw haw. Glad to know you are of the chosen people. I am Comanche."

"Does that make us ancestral enemies?"

"Many say Native American tribes all enemies. That not the mistake. Tribes not Native Americans. That the mistake," says Wolf. "We came from Asia, got to Americas centuries ahead of Palefaces. The Comanche, we had our own Nation, Comancheria.

"Injin and Paleface came from same place before America time.

"But Injins better.

"So we are friends, all human people start in Africa, all same. We have our tribes, we have our friends, our families. No such tribe as Native Americans," says Wolf.

"Hell, speakin' of Natives, shouldn't there be an original much worshiped bunch called Native Rockians? Who was on the first crew that terraformed the Rock, wouldn't they be first, who the pioneers displaced? Yep. Native Rockians. Maybe the first pioneers killed them off."

Wolf surprises me and says, "I never met any other than that one crazy Brit feller."

"Crazy what feller?"

"You ain't met His Lordship yet? You think Injin crazy..."

I interrupt, "I got no idea of Comanche ways, but yore's do seem crazy. I guess whoever died and made you Chief taught you that you got the right to boss me around."

"Sheeit, woman, you are some ballsy girl. I am Injin, and mighty proud of it. If you like I can teach you Injin ways, Woman Who Talks To Horses."

"Say what now?" I'm ponderin' on that statement. "Geez, Talks To Horses? Have you been shadowing me?"

"Yep. Heard a few speeches," says Wolf. "It ain't easy being red."

"White mans' stereotypes, Hollywood stories, have made us the Injins we are today, whether we like it or not."

"Ain't that the truth." Wolf puts heels to his horse. "Catch you later, Annie Talks To Horses."

"Annie what?"

Wolf slows his horse and looks around. "Annie Talks To Horses, it is your Injin name."

"How come I never heard it?"

"Lone Wolf has just named you after your habit of talking to your mount, it is good. And a rare privilege to make yore acquaintance." Wolf doffs his hat with a nod then lopes his horse up the hill out of sight.

To his disappearing back I say, "Still a little on edge from being shot at yesterday. Thanks for asking."

I look down at Spike's ears. "Whose privilege? His? What the fuck? Annie Talks To Horses? Man has been follerin' me for some while it seems. Shit, and close enough to hear me talking to you. Creepy, thinkin' too much on that. Stalker or guardian angel? What's yore impression, Spike?"

Maybe all this talking to horses is driving me to the loony bin. In my defense, horses like to be talked to. And then there's dogs, who love a good song, especially if it's about them. "Ain't had a dog in a while actually," I tell Spike. Who nods agreeably.

***

After my cowless go around, I must pass once again through Badger Canyon. Twice in one day is two times too many. All I can think about this time are the sheer canyon walls. They are easy 30 feet high on each side, makin' the perfect sitiation for an ambush or dry gulchin'. I think about Lone's Injin spirits and hope they will guide me through safely. My backside is swarmin' with creepy crawlin' nerves, but I keep my muscles relaxed so I don't telegraph my unease to Spike.

Now, being as I have been out hereabouts for about a month and rode what seems like every inch of the country gatherin' the Cattleman's Association cattle, me and my mounts have learnt this ground fairly well. Hard to miss a foreign track with 25 of us scouting hill and dale, tracking them split hooved cow critters. Not one of the hands had reported seeing any strange activity. The cattle break plenty branches and, when they walk a trail, cover many a track. But a track atop the cow prints, we'd of noticed.

Maybe these shoot 'em up fellas is new in the country or have just returned from a 30 day vacacion. In any case, riding back through that narrow defile makes my ass muscles clench up so tight onto the seat of my saddle that I couldn't fart if I wanted to. Good thing I am aboard my best horse. Little red bay horse, Spike is, likes to crow hop of a chilly mornin'.

Even with my rifle slung across my lap, my trigger finger is itchy as hell. I feel like Spike is walking slow as molasses. Fortunately nothing goes amiss this trip. I start to believe I will live to sin another day. Buy me a ticket straight to hell.

After I get out in the open I slide my rifle back in the scabbard, give my arm a rest.

About an hour further on, I hear runnin' horses.

Shit, hope they are friendly. Fortunately there is a big oak tree with some brush under it by the crick, so Spike and I head behind that. Maybe they'll just saunter on by and not see us. I don't want no more trouble. Feelin' a bit coward like, in fact.

Spike and I go behind the massive tree trunk and set tight. I loosen up my sidearm in the holster, just in case. Hell, here comes a dude in a surrey. Nice team of matched Belgian draft horses providing the propulsion. I pull my longarm out of the scabbard again and flip the safety off, just in case.

"We'll just set quietly here a spell. They'll never hear us. Quiet now, Spike."

Next I hear a big, "Halloo, the rider!"

So much for hiding.

He heads toward me where I appear to be loafin' in the shade of the giant Mexican blue oak tree near a log corral. My quickly contrived story is that I am waiting for Michael to complete his circle. I am hoping he will have found the strays since I didn't. Then we can work together to get them corralled and do any needed doctoring for shipment to their home ranch. Actually, it's true. I am too nervous after the last few days to think anything up.

The surrey is a beauty, looks like a town rig all painted up with delicate stripes and swirls. It even has a pretty red fringe around the roof and curlicues on the wheels.

It pulls up beside me and I find the 'dude' to be a yahoo in fancy duds. I'm talkin' suit, string tie, shiny boots, big ass white hat. This feller is way out of place out here in the bush. Gotta be a city slicker plumb lost. Oh crap, he has got a gun in his hand, too.

"Hold it right there, fella. We don't need any itchy trigger fingers causing an accident," I say.

"Whoa Nelly, relax that rifle," says the stranger. "No need to get nervous. I am the good guys."

"Says who?"

"I believe that would be me," comes a voice from behind me.

Fuck a duck, I fell for the oldest trick in the book. "Okay, no need to shoot, I'll set it down slowly."

"I daresay, young lady, we have no desire to harm you, just holster that piece and we will call it good," says the voice behind me.

I reset the safety and slide my rifle back in the scabbard. The feller behind me walks around into sight, his rifle lowered. The dude in the wagon holsters his revolver. And we all start breathing again. Who are these goofy fuckers? Damned dudes.

I sink the spurs but before Spike gets half a stride, the dude on the ground has caught my reins and pulled us up.

"Hold it there, young lady," says the guy on the surrey. "We likely ain't who you think we are, we come in peace. How about we all get down, meet and palaver."

Ay yi yi, they got me.

We all step down, they doff their hats and holy guacamole, this one feller, as Michael would say, 'Too die for!' Tall, blonde and dead handsome, even has dimples. I like dimples. I wipe my chin to check for drool. Not too many about that are taller than me, but this fella measures up right nicely. And he don't talk a bit like a dude despite the duds.

"Who are you?" I ask, still nervous.

The feller that snuck up on me bows and says, "Pardon, Miss, ladies first."

"Hell, I'm Annie, picking up strays for the Cattleman's Association hereabouts."

The tall blonde says, "Pleasure, young lady. I am Spud Mullens and my friend here is Jake."

"I say, please forgive my friend's rough frontier manners. Allow me to introduce myself properly. Jake is my lead horse's name, gesturing toward the near Belgian. I am Sir Jacob Bridbury, Duke of Barkingham, 88th Earl of Boyd, Heir to the Flemish fortune and Quimby Castle at Bridbury, first cousin to His Royal Majesty King Arthur II, Counsel to the Duke of Beltingham, Brother to the Pontiff of Laxham, Friend to the Court of Palanca, and descended from the Neanderthal. Ambassador to the planet Rock. No one else wanted to be. Your servant, Madam."

That's a mouthful. "Pleasure to meet ya," I say.

"Enchanted. A beautiful woman, even one as manfully dressed as yourself, is always a pleasure to find in even these most primitive of circumstances. I say, you might want to stop by my castle and avail yourself of the bathing facilities."

"Hell, Jakey, she don't smell ripe to me," counters the other fella.

"Certainly not, being of your species. Pardon, I meant to imply that you appear to have the forbearance of royalty and should be treated as such. The rude fashion of camping out that is oft practiced hereabouts is rough on the female persona even more so than on the male, delicate creatures that you are. My eternal apologies if I have offended."

"Jakey, yore just diggin' a deeper hole. My apologies, Ma'am. Sir Jacob, he ain't from around here."

"So I see. Yesterday there was some shootin' in Badger Canyon over yonder, made me jumpy of strangers," I say.

"Oh. We have arrived here via Badger slightly discombobulated ourselves," says Sir Jacob.

"As Sir Jake is sayin', we was out and about lookin' over our country. Then about five minutes back we were mindin' our own business. Heading through the canyon. When we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of a gun battle. Motherfuckers were blastin' away at us. Fortunately, our team spooked and run us out of there right quick. We aim to be fucking well armed to the teeth next trip."

"Quite. A rocket launcher will be perfect. A few grenades," says Sir Jacob. "But I say, Spud, there is a lady present, best to mind your language."

"No fucking problem," I say to set them at ease lingo wise. "I was wishin' I had brought a few of them motherfuckin' grenades myself when I was pinned down the other day."

They both smile and look relieved.

Spud is nice and tall, a man I can look up to, yeller blonde hair cascading over his forehead, great tan, startling blue eyes, broad shoulders, tight ass, dimples, shiny white teeth, the whole freaking package! Did I mention this already? Worth repeatin'.

"That was you?"

"Sorry, what?" I say, too busy gawkin' at this Cowboy God to have heard a single word.

Spud says, "Do you know what the hell is goin' on?"

I shake my head to get the cobwebs out. "Shoot, yea. I seemed to be right in the line of fire between two fractious factions yesterday. My horse ended up on top of me. Tall Injin fellow saved my ass."

Who are these guys? Damn, they still are good lookin'. Add these two to Lone Wolf and Michael, maybe I just haven't had any in way too long. They are _all_ beautiful. And only Michael is off limits as far as I can see. I been tryin' for years to get Michael to switch teams.

And failed.

"Wolf, yeah. He mentioned some excitement yesterday. He forgot to mention you were a girl."

"A girl _can_ be a cowhand."

Spud looks at Sir Jacob. "She's a mite touchy."

"She ought not be, weren't you the bloke who hired her?" asks Sir Jacob.

"Believe I was. I disremember hiring more than one girl. Bud said she was a top hand, but this one seems a mite simple in the head. Must be two of 'em.

"I say we get rid of this girl. I know a place just up the trail, lots of bears. We got too many strangers in the area already."

"We are not getting rid of the young lady."

"Why not? She's dimwitted. Plus how do we know we can trust her?" Spud winks.

"No matter, I like her," says Sir Jacob, "and she is pleasing to the eye."

"Hey! I'm right here, listening."

"See? Not dim, knows we are speaking of her. I say we let her in on it, _"_ says Sir Jacob.

"Disregarding all that, I was thinking lightning might strike twice. Is this all a coincidence or did we each get bushwhacked by the same fellers on two different days?" I say.

"It seems that some kinda war has placed itself right in the middle of our cattle range," says Spud.

I look at the fancy Brit. "Are you sure he ain't the dim one?"

Sir Jacob smiles and pokes Spud in the side. "See? Excellent judge of character."

"Yea, it was Wolf that saved me. He said they were shootin' at each other, not me. So, you acquainted with Wolf?"

"Hell yeah, Wolf and I are brothers," says Spud. "Guess we all better get together with Wolf and have a powwow. I'll send out a smoke signal tonight.

"If he saved your bacon, you must be okay. He don't generally go out of his way with strangers, even pretty ones. Plus you work for the Association. We would have met on the roundup, but I was off on business. I own the Par Excellence Bar None."

"Oh, that Mullens." I had heard he was a hardass motherfucker. Seems to be true. Bit of a shit, too, I'd say. No one mentioned he was a stud, a broad shouldered fine ass motherfucker. If I tape his smart mouth shut, ooh doggies. I'll need to get hands on.

"I say, Wolf is as tough a gentleman as it has been my pleasure to encounter on this primitive rock," declares Jacob, a fancy lookin' sucker. He seems out of place in this world. Talks like a high tone English Lord. Oh, yeah, he said he was...Sir something or other...sheesh.

"You sticking around for a while?" asks Spud.

"My feelings are sure hurt over the whole shootout deal. Reckon I have a duty to the Cattleman's Association too, seeing as how I am working this country for them. Outlaws ain't likely to care about the rights of cattlemen or their cows. Can't afford to lose no cows to flying lead." Plus I got nowhere else to go, long story.

"And they don't seem to care who is in their line of fire. Wolf has been out studying their tracks and such today. I'll get him out here mañany and we will rendezvous," intones Spud.

"My camp is just up the side draw here if you want to meet up there. Take a left by that big cottonwood. Lone Wolf knows where it's at. Let me know if you need help, my partner and I will be around a few more days."

"Yore partner good lookin'?" asks Spud.

I say, "Oh hell yeah!"

### 8 Powwow

The next day I meet up with Lone Wolf, Spud and Sir Jacob out at the trail crossing for a quick confab. Lone has little to report, having seen only enough to give him a few theories.

"My partner will be here in five," I say.

"Good lookin', you say?" asks Spud.

"Yep, extremely."

Wolf covers his grinning mouth, gets control of his features, then adds, "Yeah, Wolf meet Annie's partner, very beautiful. Just yore type."

Oh crap, I think, another guy too good lookin' to be straight? Arghhh. Just my luck.

Michael appears around the bend, in his full flamboyant voice. Waving a loose wristed hand in the air, he says, "Oh, Annie, introduce me. I hear you've found a whole herd of fabulous studs!"

"Yes siree, and Spud the Stud here has been super excited to meet yore fine fairy ass," I say.

We all look at the extremely red faced Spud, who is waving a hand in front of his face. "No, um, no. There has been a misunderstanding here." Then he glances around at us, laughing our asses off. Cowboy humor, keeps us going.

Michael extends a suddenly macho hand. He is a bit red too. "My apologies for my evil partner, it seems she has bamboozled us both. No harm meant, except to our fragile egos."

He turns to me and says, "Annie, I will have you over my knee if this behavior continues," which gets us all about rolling out of our saddles with glee again.

We decide to split up and track the suckers in and out, see if we can figure out what is so valuable as to be worth the shootin' of innocent passersby. We all agree that there is more here than meets the naked eye.

I put in a long day with not much results: hoofed or booted, other than giving my overworked cowpony another big workout. Fortunately, he is way tougher than I will ever be. Spike sure appreciates his hay and oats come nightfall.

The following morning Michael and I are snug in our separate soogans when I roll over and open my eyes. Sure enough that wily Injin has crept into our camp again, stirred up the coals and made us a pot of coffee. Pure evil, the man is.

So much for my Injin blood. I apparently have inherited no Injin skills. Sleepin' with one eye open is not in my DNA. Once again Lone could have killed us both in our sleep had he been so inclined.

"Shit Lone, damn good thing I didn't start up and shoot you before I got the sleep out of my eyes."

"You white folks never hear Injin, I make plenty noise this mornin'. Got Injin juju on my side.

"Roll out and grab a cup. Sir Jacob has broke a rule and invited you to his teepee. He never invites strangers in. I believe he has fallen for your feminine wiles."

"If he is susceptible to feminine wiles, wait 'til he spends some time with Michael. He can out feminine me with one hand tied behind his back."

"Not sure Sir Jacob will appreciate the irony there, really not sure," says Wolf.

"I just met that guy the other day and a minute or two of observation showed me that he's a different one, as dandified as I ever saw."

"Sir Jacob has a past that none of us have found out much about. He is surely a believer in the end of the worlds being soon. He is well prepared, which has more than once worked out well for Spud and all us Injins he has befriended."

"You have people hereabouts, Lone?"

"Not legal for Injins to be out here. We are good reservation livers. Smart Injin stay on res.

"It is well known to me, when things go wrong, White Eyes blame the Injins. History repeat itself all over again."

After we coffee down and saddle up, Lone Wolf leads us up a well forested draw and into just about another world.

We head up a pretty steep stream for an hour and into a maze of huge granite boulders. After some serious winding about we come to a dead end, or so it seems. We are at the end of a box canyon with cliffs all around, including dead ahead.

Lone leads us into a just about impenetrable clump of Arizona cypress. Stuck just behind one of the mass of huge rocks there appears the mouth of a cave. It is hidden very well by brush and trees. I doubt even seasoned brush jumpers like us would ever come upon it by our lonesomes.

We dismount and lead our horses into the cave. Just as the light just about peters out to nothing, Lone stops at a ledge where there are carbide lamps and matches. He lights up one for each of us. Further inside there is a large room set up as a stable, hay and all. There we unsaddle and put our steeds in a small pen with a shock of hay each. There is water coming into the troughs from somewhere and some natural light filtering in through a crack in the roof.

Horses cared for, we walk on into the tunnel. It is a short hike, maybe 30 yards to a door. Lone invokes the Injin gods in some way and the door opens for us.

Inside the door it is nothing short of amazing.

First there is the tunnel, looks like an old mine. I can see veins of some type of metallic ore glittering in the walls and even places where miners have driven in and high graded the ore.

"Gold?" I ask Lone.

"White man steal Injin gold."

"How'd they pull that off, you Injins bein' so watchful and stealthy and know it all?"

"White Eyes sneak in and mine from before we conquer these parts. Injin move into this area not long time past, our birthright, everything. Now we more watchful, less firewater."

"Mm."

We head on down the tunnel passing cross drifts, making a few turns here and there, kinda confabulatin' in fact. If we lose Lone and run out of fuel in the lanterns, it could get nasty trying to find the way out. If only we had brought bread crumbs. Hell, we could have crumbled it ourselves if we carried a loaf of bread in our emergency kit. But whoever thinks to?

Eventually we arrive at another heavy wood door with wrought iron hinges and hasp. Lone Wolf knocks some kind of fancy secret knock and we wait.

### 9 Jake's Joint

In a bit the door opens and we enter. Sir Jacob is there in a fine and fancy suit. He has it all, frilly shirt, vest, suit coat, pants, jacket, shiny boots too. I am sure if I was high toned I would find him quite dashing. On second thought, I do.

Sir Jacob speaks up, "One must remember, Mr. Wolf, that the knock pattern changes on a biweekly basis. You seem to always be a fortnight behind the times."

"So you'll know it's me, English White Eyes."

"Ah, clever."

Sir Jacob then turns to me and says, "Excuse my manners Miss Annie, welcome, come, join us. Would tea be acceptable? No doubt we have a crumpet to accompany and perhaps a small tankard of home brew for the primitives? Or perhaps an early vintage of my vino? I have stemware. I say, I feel that you, madam, are cut of a finer cloth than the savage Wolf and oddly named Spud."

"You'll have to forgive Sir Jake, he gets a bit nervous in the presence of comely young ladies," says Spud.

"In fact, none of us see comely young ladies often enough," says Sir Jacob.

"By early vintage he means a decade or so before last. This place ain't been around too very long, but his brew is tasty," says Spud. "Come on in, pilgrims. Welcome to Sir Jacob's humble abode."

"Hello. Sir Jacob, you remember my partner, Michael Santa Cruz."

"Ah, we were not formally introduced at the time due to the merriment. Spud is still reeling, I believe," says Sir Jacob clasping his hand. "Sir Jacob Bridbury, Duke of Barkingham, Earl of Boyd, Heir to the Flemish fortune and to Quimby Castle at Bridbury, first cousin to His Royal Majesty King Arthur II, Counsel to the Duke of Beltingham, Brother to the Pontiff of Laxham, Friend to the Court of Palanca, and descended from the Neanderthal. Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to The Planet Rock. No one else wanted to be, you see. At your service, kind sir."

"Pleasure is all mine, Sir Jacob," says Michael.

"You are working on the cattle roundup also?"

"Yep, I'm an old gay cowhand from somewhere a few planets away from the Rio Grande."

"Come on in, we shall exchange lies over a glass of homemade wine. I in fact have a few vintage bottles brought from an earlier life on another world."

"Homemade wine? Who would have thought civilization would have penetrated way out here into the Cosmos campo," says Michael.

We all head out of the entryway and into a huge area with walls hung with racks of every weapon I ever heard of and many more. The décor is most certainly scholarly survivalist. Cowhide furniture, obviously hand crafted. What a palace. And back against the far wall, I walk closer, and holy shit!

It is a cabinet of old books. Actual books! Holy guacamole. Bunches of 'em. Shelves of books. Wow, I rush over and just gawk at 'em. Scared to touch. Damn.

"The 'Peace Room', dedicated to the signatories of the Rock Declaration of Independence," Sir Jacob announces as we walk through.

"The secret Declaration of Independence, mind you. If the Centrists knew of it they'd blow us right out of the Cosmos."

Sir Jacob continues, "The 'Moonshine Room'," as we walk in, gawking.

Sir Jacob takes us over to a rack of wine barrels and threading a clear hose in through a bunghole, siphons out glasses of wine all around.

Sir Jacob raises his glass and says, "Here's to us, the men who are doing what is legislated as wrong in order to accomplish what we believe is right. Revolutionaries."

We raise our glasses and partake, mumbling in agreement.

"Now to business," interjects Spud.

"Allow me, Miss Talks To Horses and Mr. Santa Cruz, to offer the convenience of my baths should you care to wash off the trail dust. We can start our business without you," says Sir Jacob.

"Oh yes, that would be fabulous," says Michael.

"I see my new Injin name has already been popularized by, as you call him, Mr. Wolf," I say.

"We have all heard you talking to said beasts, hard for you to deny."

"Proud of it, actually. I like to brag that I ride some of the best behaved horses in the country. They appreciate the consideration of a pleasant word or two."

"Best horses?" says Spud. "Naw, you ain't seen mine."

"Injin horse more better than both. Injin make good horse medicine," Wolf interjects.

We adjourn to the baths. Sir Jacob has more than one! And luxurious, Michael and I wash and swim our cares away in true Roman fashion. On our return to the very warlike Peace Room, we find everyone standing around a table.

"You are in the fray now, Annie. We have continued the equine discussion and it seems each of us owns the perfect steeds," says Sir Jacob. "Now to work. Come join us at the big table. We can lay out a map and share intelligence."

We all head in and settle ourselves around a huge slab of Douglas fir. A table fit for a king.

I, of course, speak up. "This place is truly amazing, an underground castle. Soaking in the bath, I felt like royalty."

Sir Jacob smiles and Spud laughs out loud.

"Along with being His Lordship, Sir Jacob claims descendance from some god awful King or other. Don't egg him on."

"His majesty, the King of Andorra, a few and more generations back. I am Basque by way of England, a descendant of shepherds," says Sir Jacob. "My formal introduction is already lengthy enough without adding the dear Basquos."

"Your Highness," I say as I mock a bow and scrape.

"Har har," says Spud. Kind of a jackass, this guy.

Sir Jacob says, "Don't mind Spud. A mere commoner, he understands not the privilege and superior intellect of the Royals."

"Sheeeit. Wanna have a brain pissin' contest?" says Spud.

"Seriously, Spud, Jake, we got interlopers to get shed of, quit screwin' around," says Wolf.

"Now," says Sir Jacob, "for a report from our faithful Injin companion."

Lone Wolf tries unsuccessfully not to grin. "I rode the north section following their tracks, then backtracked them the other way. I suppose they come in from MadDog. There seem to just be the three of them headed back toward town. Then coming back this way, it is harder to tell. It seems that when they ran into Annie here, they got spooked and never made it to wherever they were planning on going. In other words, I got nothing but guesses."

"I don't know about them being spooked by me, but I was sure spooked by them."

"You killed or grievously wounded the one, from what Wolf tells me."

"Didn't find anything on the trail but off the trail I found blood at last light, too dark to track it," says Wolf.

"What did you and Michael find?" Sir Jacob asks.

"Whole lot of nothing. Maybe it was their first day in the country. We need to lay up and watch them," I report.

"We-ell." Michael flips his wrist. "If we can locate their camp, maybe I should go undercover."

"What makes you think they want a flaming queen in their camp?" I ask.

"You forget I am a classically trained actor. And, in fact, any gay learns in his short pants to play straight if needed. I have fabulous gaydar, not a problem."

"A vote?" asks Sir Jacob.

"Maybe shape changer have good idea. I find outlaw camp tonight, Injin smell smoke, find fire. Little Mike go in for kill."

"No kill, just info, we don't know who or what yet. Let's not jump the figurative gun, troops," says Spud, taking the reins. "With a small dedicated group there is nearly nothing that cannot be accomplished. We will reconvene as needed."

"We can only accomplish if we keep our scalps."

I am still in awe of Sir Jacob's lair.

"This is amazing, all these black as night tunnels, but in the living area sky lights, windows, courtyard gardens, wow!"

Spud tells us, "Sir Jacob has him an actual fortress with firewalls, battlements, armaments, and no arraignments."

"Why no arraignments?"

"That falls under my 'hit the bastards in the head with a shovel, then bury 'em with a backhoe' policy. No need for lawyers," says Sir Jacob.

"Aha."

It turns out, that however the wilderness rules were written, Sir Jacob does have a backhoe hidden in his underground fortress. Although it was said jocularly, I wonder if he really has used the backhoe to bury dead bodies. Why the hell not? Less shoveling for us peons. He takes us down another tunnel and shows it off to us before we take our leave.

Michael and I saddle back up and head for camp.

"That was some castle, enjoyed the hell out of that huge rock bath." Plenty of room for me and a good lookin' cowboy, I wish. "Company not too shabby either," I say.

"That Sir Jacob, though. He's a mite quirky," observes Michael.

"Please, that charming bastard's looking at quirky in the rearview mirror. Sorta intriguing, actually. He gay or straight, Mr. Gaydar?"

"Yep."

"Keeping yore own counsel?"

"Yep."

"Mm," I nod.

### 10 Mystory not History

Couple and some centuries have passed since the heyday of the Cowboys and Injins and we have a ton of information about those ancient times in the Hollywood stories that have been passed down around the campfire for generations.

We actually live in a much more primitive world in many ways. Of course we are at the same time and very ironically much more advanced. Certainly in the Center Worlds, at the core of modern civilization the advances are astonishing. But here, on our new little Rock home on the edge of the Cosmos, life is in some ways much closer to the 1880s.

Everywhere in the Cosmos man seems to still be man. Loving, hateful, spiteful, belligerent, jealous, envious, greedy, murderous, you name it. Though we like to believe we have risen above our primitive ancestors, we have but to retell an Old John Wayne western story to see that times were the best and the simplest then. These old stories represent the best in men, which those dreamers among us hope to recapture.

Reality, however, is a cruel mistress and these new hot dogging interlopers are a deadly reminder. The plot we uncover. It's a long story.

Can we ever revive the high standards of the olden days? After all, we are all but students of The Duke.

They's a lot said about what happened betwixt the Hollywood years and now. It's called the Troubles. One of the things that happened is the schools.

Now the Center has their own story 'bout what happened, we got ours. All I got to say about their 'official story" is that half of writing history is all about hiding the truth.

This is the story I got figured out. It's the truth as I see it.

First there was petroglyphs, symbols carved in rock. Then they had hieroglyphs, fancier symbols writ on papyrus. Then several someones came up with alphabets. Next they got everyone in schools and taught 'em readin' and writin'. Then they had printing and made books. People wrote in a hurry, ran the letters together into a stream called cursive. Then electronics come along and they all started typing. They used to say that the age of electronics was the information age. In point of fact, I've heard it said that without careful personal censorship it could be the drowning in information age.

So to cut down on all the info cluttering the kids' minds and save teaching time the schools decided no need for cursive, it's antiquated and typing is faster. Then as everyone got a laptop or tablet, the schools said no one needs to write anymore. Pencil and paper is old school.

What happened next of all, as far as has been passed down, was they quit teaching writing at all! Everyone typed into electronic devices: phones, pads, palms. Folks started listening to books rather than reading them.

That seemed all fine and dandy until a few generations passed and somebodies, a government or three, no doubt, got in an argument and set off the first big bang of the Troubles. An EMP it was and...

Shazam, no more electronic devices. That EMP left 'em, for all intents, unplugged.

Oh and, oops, suddenly we didn't know how to write anymore, much less read. Hell, we had never used a pencil. The few Neanderthal ancients that remembered how to write, not many could read it. Hand written letters are not as exactly each the identical same and so way harder to read for folks used to keyboard script. During the poor hardscrabble post war existence, no time to study up on it either. Hell of a deal.

Took us a mighty long time to come back from that. Still a passel of illiterates out there.

So once again, Civilization: Good, bad or just plain stupid?

### 11 Wilderness

It's creepifyin' that old Earth got used up. How did they do it?

Scary to even ponder on too hard, 'specially if, like they claim, history repeats itself. Which it seems to be doin' right here in front of our eyes on the Rock. The Rock being one of the more primitive paradises left fer cowhands to inhabit that Michael and I have found.

The Centrists started as a merger of the Demoplicans and Replutocrats in retaliation to the upsurge of the Libertarian Party, whose growth in strength and reputation made it obvious that the original two parties needed to combine or they would indeed be conquered. The Libertarian menace was the common enemy that forced them to join forces or drown. Their merger into the Centrist party was an obvious choice, as their fight over the middle of the road needed to gain a majority of the vote was causing them to be indistinguishable, even to the least educated of the unwashed masses. The long and bloody war that ensued pushed the individualistic Libertarian rebels to the outer planets on the edges of space.

After the Troubles, a lot of these outer planets was declared as wilderness areas. No motorized vehicles allowed. Not sure why, for tourists to come ogle us? T'were true on some of them holiday planets.

It was also figured to be a sure fire way to recover from the ravages of the cities. Now that the cities were all gone, blown to smithereens in the Troubles, the plants and lesser animals would take back their land. And humans had, we hoped, learned a lesson. Too many of any animal, even humans, in too close of quarters, not a smart idea. Killed the Earth.

'Course then livin' primitive, no runnin' water, no electric, people found out just how much harder life without machines is. So they started tinkerin', inventin' and makin'. Pretty soon, if we ain't careful, they change it so only some of the planet is wilderness, then the good landing and harbor areas get developed and then development slowly but surely moves inland. Happening on a lot of planets.

Anyone having taken the wrong side in the Troubles, like the sparse populations of the outer worlds, are still dirt poor, even illiterate and living in towns that are considered little more than ghettos by the Centrists. This works to the Centrists advantage to keep them tame and to get them trained to be good little workers. Folks are rewarded for living in the city and attending the schools, churches and workin' at full time careers that keep the Centrist government runnin' and in power.

The farmers and ranchers are a more idealistic and individualistic lot. Especially now that the tough times have lessened as the farms and ranches get established, the pioneers have more time to think about they and their children's futures. And they have rediscovered the joy of the decidedly unvegger beef barbeque.

Traders have started showing up in ships hawkin' cheap technologies and folks have started trading their goods.

Every planet does it different, but we're sure 'nough crawling, tooth and claw, our way up Nob Hill.

Just sayin'.

'Course from a cowhands point of view, being a lover of grass and trees and all sich, I gotta say it worked out well. Here at the outer edge (if not off the edge) of the Cosmos, we ain't got too much civilization, so we live quiet and free. Not bothered by anyone, no one loves us and no one cares. No complaints here. Until now.

Who the heck keeps shootin' at me? Cuttin' into my quiet times.

### 12 Look Out

Bright and early next morning we head back out to look at the blood sign. We don't have any other leads. We need another sighting, or at least some fresh tracks, to give us something actual to investigate. The hombres Lone Wolf had spotted previously vanished by the time he had worked his way around to their positions.

As we ride back out toward the scene of the ambush he explains.

"Looking at how they were set up and which way they was aiming, they were either laying in a crossfire to get whoever came up the canyon or they were in a gun fight with each other when Annie and I showed up. They either thought they killed us and left, or else us runnin' into their firing lines fightin' and shootin' spooked the hell out of them."

"Too many choices, gotta narrow 'er down."

"Skullduggery? Alien abduction?"

Wolf and I look over quizzically.

"Farfetched, I know, but it too had to be mentioned," says Michael.

"In any case they seem to have appeared out of nowhere. Can't find sign in all that rocky ground," says Wolf.

Hence Michael and I go on about our back riding business, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious or any shooting, while Wolf plies his trade.

Sure enough, after a day of roaming the country to the west, we have found 10 head between us and are headed back into the canyon, when one dry cow takes it into her head to go into the, of course, thickest brush around, just under the rim rock. I spur Spike in to head her off, but end up follerin' her on into the thicket where holy moly, I strike proverbial gold. Or not.

A dead body ain't exactly gold, but it did appear to maybe be a clue.

Michael swings down for a better look and says, "Ugh, this fella is completely corpsified."

"You can be incompletely corpsified?"

Michael strikes a pose. "Oh, sweetie, if you saw a few of those old queens hanging on by the fingernails to their long lost youth? Still alive but definitely corpsified."

That gets us to laughing. Helps overcome the pukifyin' smell, but not much. Not a pretty sight for the eyeballs either.

"Maybe that Injin you are so sweet on can spot something we missed; he knows the territory pretty well."

"Sweet? Me?"

"Not sweet, sweet on, sweetie."

We look around the area, trying not to disturb things too much.

"Yo, Michael, can you head them cows on down toward the corral then come back up and help me investigate this bloated up feller?"

"Gladly," he says, holding his nose theatrically. "Be back shortly."

And off he goes.

Now this here feller is purely shot through the head. Not too pretty. And there is a track or two about, like as if the killer had come over to be sure the job was done. I mean if his buddies had come to check on him, wouldn't they of buried the poor soul?

Weren't much of a face left to identificate. I did find a few shell casings from his rifle, showing he had been in the fight. Not just shot without notice like I almost was.

Lone shows up about then.

"Hey girl, what you messin' with now?"

"Hey, Lone Wolf, meet my friend, Headless."

"Life has been extinguished. Spirit still burns," explains Wolf. "It will find a new vessel and alight."

"You say so."

"Michael sent me up," Wolf says. "I told him to head on down to camp when he was done beddin' them cattle down. I can help you out."

"Good to know that my crew follers your orders."

"Seemed logical."

"It was, I was just pullin' yore leg. Maybe Michael will scare up dinner for us.

"You know this guy?" I ask.

"Hard to say, I don't believe his head always looked that way. You find any eyeballs so we can get the color?" asks Wolf.

"Why do I need to sort through the goo? May not be an eyeball intact. His hair looks to be brown or blonde maybe?" I find a stick and troll through the remains until I find a blue eyeball. Smell is worse than the gore. Amazingly, I don't puke when I find it.

"Blue and dishwater blonde is my call."

"Sure. Hey girl, lay down next to him so we can see how tall he is. Add eight inches for the head. Here, let's straighten him out."

"Isn't there an easier way?"

"Sure, pull out yore pocket tape measure."

"Yeesh." I look down, trying not to get in the massive pool of brain and blood splatter. "Are you doing this just to creep me out?"

"Just checkin' yer fitness for tough work." Wolf grins.

I grab his cowboy booted feet and Lone his shoulders, there being not enough head intact to get a good hold on. "So is he before going stiff or after?"

"Rigor has come and gone. I'm thinkin' he was shot by that bullet that about took yore ear off the other day. I just didn't see him 'cause I was lookin' at you and Bogey."

"Maybe I was just caught in a crossfire with no ill will for me. I was a blazin' along at that point of the battle. Then when you joined in, we likely raised their enmity. Not that my wingin' that one feller didn't help."

I lay down next to the corpse, trying to avoid the blood and brains. Get my shoulders lined up with Headless's so Lone can judge his height. Nasty work, but I got cojones or at least I don't want Wolf to know I don't.

"Little feller, 5' 8" I'd say. Good six inches shorter'n you, Stretch."

Yuck, I jump up, feelin' a mite green. "That's how you tell the bad guys, short."

"Guys too short for yore attention are still folks. Don't mean they are bad. Just 'cause they got short changed in the height department," says Wolf.

"Don't make 'em good, either. But you are right, he could be with the good guys. Can't say 'til we know more."

"So 5'8", blondish hair, blue eyes, regular clothes. Well, blue work shirt with snaps, blue jeans, boots."

"What the heck did they shoot him with to blow his head up like that? Were they real close and used a shotgun?" I ask.

"Good question, let's scout the holes where the others were laying up."

Off to the north, on down the trail a ways, is the spot where the second guy had been spotted by Lone. We look her over and see that this feller had shot .45-70, and from the lay of the ejected shells had been aiming across the trail to where the last two were laid up in wait. Then we cross the draw and check the two south sites. The westerly one has a similar look. The third shooter had used a .45 Colt, likely a lever action from the drop pattern of the ejected brass casings. We go on to number four. He was at the east end, the end I had come in from, and he had a bipod mounted .50 cal.

"That just might blow your head clean off with the right load."

"Like an old Buffalo gun, eh?"

"Yep, mighty straight shootin' and kicks like a mule. Mayhaps he had some kind of explosive bullet in front of a shitload of powder. So when you come through the draw, this .50 caliber feller shot at Headless, you ran into the path and heard the bullet whistle by your ear, then it headed on through the air to turn the other guy into Mr. Headless. It were about 250 yards all told. Mighty powerful."

"So what do we know that we didn't before?" asks Wolf.

"They was four, no five, of them. There's the one I shot off yore back.

".50 Cal either had amazing reflexes, aimed at you and got his buddy by accident because Bogey was one jump ahead of the bullet, or he was shooting at his enemy, future Headless, and you ran through the bullet's path."

"So, back to square one." I shrug.

"We do know their boot sole patterns now and we know they was five to start with. We know the calibers of their guns, but we don't know if they beamed right in outa outer space or where they come from," says Wolf.

"Was they afoot or ahorseback? Mighty long walk from anyplace out here to nowhere."

"Ha-ha, 'Nowhere' is the name of Sir Jacob's place. How did you know that?"

"Never did, just feeling pretty far out here for so many people to be about."

"Full name is the 'Arse End of Nowhere Ranch'. Spud and Sir Jacob are maybe partners in it. Not sure. They do get thick as thieves."

"What about you, Lone? You seem to be in it, too."

"Hell, I'm just a dumb Injin. Got horses, not cows."

"How you make a living at that?"

"Raise damn good horses and I am the Guardian of the Spirit Cave."

"What is that?'

"My tribe has an ancient Spirit Cave, plenty big medicine. I protect it."

"What is inside?"

"Only the Spirit Elders know of these things. The cave is sacred to my people. The Elders come soon for Spirit Cave Ceremonies. Big doin's for the People. Make our year shine."

"Ah."

We ride over to the aptly named 'Nowhere' to exchange intelligence with Spud and Sir Jacob, if you can call it that. Intelligence, I mean. We had damn little info from our snooping other than Headless, of course, the anonymous corpse.

He was something tangible and also stinking to high heaven. So we left him in place. He hadn't been found by the coyotes yet, but it wouldn't be long before their patrols sniffed (ugh!) him out. Coy dogs love the stinky stuff.

We impart our new finds to the boys.

Sir Jacob's reaction is quick. "I shall harness the team. We will take the Periwinkle to transport the corpse. Will it be possible to get close enough with it to load the body?"

"Periwinkle?" I ask.

"Jakey's spring wagon with mobile lab aboard," offers Spud, the only one who seems to call the Sir 'Jakey.'

"I think you can get in there with the wagon. Headless corpses weigh less not having the head, you know." I think I'm educatin' somebody, hah.

"So you can tote him a bit if you don't mind the mess. I don't think you'll need a pack horse to get him out. Hope yore team is broke to stinky man corpses, though," I say.

"Could be a rodeo. Maybe I otter go along to take a pitchur of that," says Spud.

"Yeah and you can lug the body, being a big strong feller, Mister Photo Op," I interject.

"Seems to me you are the big muscular girl type, maybe you should go tote him."

"Hell, yeah, that I will, Mr. Puny," I say.

Spud was 6'4" if he was a' inch and did I mention his muscles yet? Tight, lovely muscles. Enough to drive this girl mad with desire. I was feeling mighty loverly over this big hunk, but I would be clever and not let on. Besides, he was kind of a' asshole. Providential, seein' as he was from the 'Arse End of Nowhere Ranch.'

"But just in case I need a weakling to take the foot end, maybe you better tag along," I add.

Sir Jacob says, "I can surely be of assistance."

"You are the driver, likely need you to hold the horses when they get the smell of all that blood. We need to both go, mayhaps we will find a clue."

"Yeah, all three of your heads together might make half a' Injin brain," says Wolf.

"Mayhaps, indeed. Thanks for the compliment, red man."

So we harness up and all set off to investergate or interpolate or whatever it was we are supposed to do. Mainly I want to get shed of the whole deal. Except maybe I need to get to know Lone, Spud and Sir Jacob a bit better. Not often a girl runs into two hot hunks and a Lord, especially not out at the ass end of nowhere with not hardly a soul about. Like I said, the finest kind of country. I got 'em all to my loverly little ol' self.

From Sir Jacob's lair we head out with his Periwinkle, which has an amazing mobile laboratory in the bed.

Spud tells me, "Sir Jacob is best known for his gun collection, but he also has mad scientific skills. He is interested in 'most ever'thing."

Lone, riding Scout alongside Spike and I, explains, "Finding and autopsying dead animals is just another of his many unique hobbies."

"The headless corpse is an opportunity for myself to move my animal autopsy skills on into the study of the human species. Study, examine, double check, research, measure twice, and cut once," says Sir Jacob.

Everyone has a good laugh when Wolf tells them how he got me to lie down by the corpse for measurement. Spud trots up and reaches in Lone's saddle bags, draws out a cloth tape measure. "He always carries one to collect measurements for things too big to drag back for Sir Jacob to examine."

Lone says, "You had to be there to really appreciate it. She laid right down like a trooper."

"Didn't want to spoil his wild Injin image with a tape measure," Spud says.

"Glad I could brighten up yore mornin', fellas."

### 13 Exsanguination

As we pull into the dell where Headless' spirit is asleepin' a rider comes shooting out of the trees, jumps on his ground tied horse and hightails it down the road. It's deja vu all over again.

Lone Wolf makes chase.

As Wolf closes in he hops onto the horse's rump, landing close behind the rider. The two struggle while the horse, after a short shy to the opposite side of Lone's leap, gallops on. The rider pulls out a knife while the horse is racing flat out across the valley dodging brush and trees. Wolf and the rider struggle mightily. The knife flashes around catching the sun when suddenly Wolf topples off.

The rider struggles to regain his balance and he and his horse shoot on out of sight.

"Wolf!" Spud gets there first.

Wolf is layin' out. Spud leans over him.

I pull up and can see the blood before I hit the ground. "Wolf!"

"He okay?" I ask Spud

"Good gods," says Sir Jacob, last to arrive, driving the team.

We all lean over and look. "He ain't moved, knocked out, I think. Lot of blood, but not much damage I can see, just nicked a big vessel. Long slice here in his side, but not too much more than skin deep. Here Jakey, yore the Doc," says Spud. He moves over as Sir Jacob walks up.

I saunter over and grab the team, who have started to dance a bit.

"Likely smelled the blood," says Spud.

"Yep."

"Bring my kit, Spud. We shall take advantage and stitch while he's unconscious. Hopefully it won't be long."

Spud delivers the medical bag, then returns to hand me the carriage weight. "Brakes are set."

"We'll need some of that anesthetic firstly, Spud," says Sir Jacob.

"He's already asleep."

"For the surgeon," says Sir Jacob as he raises the bottle. "Steady hands, better job." And passes it around.

I hold Wolf's head in my lap and Spud assists Sir Jacob as he stitches Wolf's side.

Damned if he doesn't finish his whip stitch and knot it just as Wolf starts to moan.

"Holy shit, I hit that ground wrong. Damn," swears Wolf.

"S'possed to tuck and roll, buddy." Spud looks relieved. "Glad yore still with us, pard."

"Here, we saved some medicine for you, my fine redskin friend." Sir Jacob passes him the bottle.

After a break, Wolf rises and whistles. Scout trots up.

"You are welcome to ride in the wagon, Wolf," says Sir Jacob.

"Injin have horse. More comfy," says Wolf. "Right, Talks To Horses?"

"Yep."

"Man this sucker stinks!" says Spud. "The tree cover must have hid him from the vultures."

We hop out of the wagon and get to work.

After a close look, Sir Jacob declares, "Exsanguination."

"Having most of his head shot off might have had some to do with it," says Spud.

After a thorough on sight examination, Sir Jacob uses a shovel to lift the remains of the head into a burlap sack. We lay the headless corpse out on a canvas tarp and wrap him for transport. Gloves on, Spud and I heft him over and hoist him aboard. Wolf has gone out on a circuit lookin' for the runner and any other clues.

I am true to my word and take the head end. Even though it is about 20 yards to the wagon, Spud never breaks a sweat. He sure looks handsome, all bare chested in the heat. Who hoo! Muscle man.

"Hey, Spud, them feet ain't too heavy for ya are they? I can take the whole corpse if you like."

"Women!"

"Here now, I have busted bigger bulls than this fer fun of a Sunday."

"Okay, so yore not the average girl, but you are still a girl, puny compared to a real man."

"Remind me to challenge you to a riding and shootin' contest next chance we get. I will kick your ass."

Sir Jacob is amused. "Bloody hell, you two sound quite silly fighting over naught. We are quite aware of what you are actually about."

Danged if Spud doesn't turn beet red. Hm. 'Course, I never did. Okay, that might be a lie.

Wolf rides up as we are about to head out and hands something to Sir Jacob. "A bullet for yore collection," he says.

"Ah." Sir Jacob examines it with a glass, then measures with calipers. ".50 caliber."

"Buffaler gun," says Spud.

We mount up and haul Headless off for an autopsy and likely an improper burial.

### 14 Eureka!

We hadn't found much new other than the bullet when we picked up Headless' corpse. That slick rock still had us stymied. So the next day Wolf and I each take one side of the rim rock above the canyon to see what we can find. Spud goes down the bottom again, working on foot and slow, so as not to miss any sign.

I take the south rim and Lone Wolf the north. I find horse sign up top. The two shooters on that side had tied their mounts to a tall pine tree, then skittered down a steep arroyo into the canyon.

Lone reports in a long while later covered with blood from various cuts and the spill; he looks like an honest to gods savage. He drops a dead body which he had slung across his lap.

He says "The north side shooters, I never found sign of how they got in. Left their mounts on the rim too. But too much rock there too, no way to backtrack them.

"The feller I fought with took to the creek, must have gone on down a mile or more, he still hadn't come out 'less I missed the sign under a bush.

"So I circle back and find just that, a bush on a rock, but about ten feet out of the stream the brush ends and the bare rock is wet, then it's just a matter of fast trackin'. Caught him takin' a leak. I made sure it was his last leak."

"You okay, buddy?" I ask.

"Injin too tough not to be."

"I see why they call you Wolf."

We once again meet up with Sir Jake and Spud at Sir Jacob's hilltop barbeque pit, where he is cookin' up some fine grass fed beef. After a drink to warm us up, Michael shows up and we get down to sharing info.

We relate our experience, then Michael reports, "I found a few cows in the brush and on the way through the canyon they pulled the usual mass escape in that big thicket, which we oughta chop down in fact. Anyhoo, when I got in there, Buddy decided he was a might thirsty so I got off to quench my thirst too."

"Exciting report so far," I intone.

"Not to worry, here comes the punch line," says Sir Jacob.

"In fact you are right, here it comes, how did you know Sir Jacob?"

"Educated guess."

"Don't steal my thunder, handsome. I lean down to take a drink and notice a mighty bright shine there in the water. Low and behold, I pick up the shiner and it is a gold nugget or chispa as my people say. And I am staking my claim as I speak." He passes the nugget to me.

"Actually Michael, you may have that one, since it is only fist sized," says Sir Jacob.

"Only?" I heft it. "Must weigh two pounds easy, worth a barrelful a cash. It is yore country, fellas, and since Jacob already seems to know about it, are you willing to let us in on the secret?"

"Ah, well, you see that is how I bankrolled my operation hereabouts. There is gold in the creek, I found it when we were building this wilderness. I placer mined. It started out just like the first fellers to find the American River in Californy. Those gentlemen were riding along the river, looked down and saw gold nuggets on a river bar. They had no gold pans, so they went to the Digger Injins and traded for baskets. They panned that gold with woven Digger baskets and made an intolerable amount in just a few days. Big gold nuggets right there next to the river, and likely more under the water. Ah, the Californy Gold Rush of 1849.

"I thought that we had cleaned out all the surface gold, guess that storm the other day turned the rocks over and flushed another chunk out. Mayhaps the shooters found something of the kind. Gold does make a greedy person murderous. Just about any person gets greedy at the sight of it laying about free for the taking."

"Yep," says Spud, "that's why me, Jakey and Wolf are at each other's throats. Don't never turn yore back."

"Sheeit, we are willing to share, even with white folks," Wolf says as he smiles at Michael and me. "We been through the wars with you two. I think there may be enough to go around."

"It ain't rich no more. We done cleaned up the easy stuff years back. Now it's more like work and with the wilderness rules we can only use hand tools. Lotta work. That first bunch of nuggets grubstaked us all up. But that windfall seems to be over," adds Spud. "We are happy to ranch for a living now. Them cattle get in yore blood as you know, better to own them than just chouse 'em around. I was just a cowhand like you two before the gold strike. Spending my paycheck to party. Livin' from one to the next.

"Plus with you two on board, that makes five of us to keep these bad guys off our land. If they found the gold? Even worse, if they talked to anyone else about it? We could be in deep shit."

"'The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present'- Abraham Lincoln," Sir Jacob reminds us.

"Speaking of wilderness, you said some about building this wilderness. How do you build a wilderness, Sir Jacob?" I ask. "I thought they were born, not made."

"In fact this place was a lot less than wilderness in some areas. We came in with a huge crew, we blasted and bulldozed a veritable shitload of ruins, big ones. Picked up, cleaned out, then let nature take its course and make it wild again. The flora and fauna will out, we just speeded the process up for esthetic considerations. We reaped fantastic paychecks for remote and hazardous duty.

"That is how I ended up living here, I found the cave, stuck my backhoe into the big room. Once it was out of sight I got provisions in by freight wagon and took up housekeeping. They never noticed that I didn't clear out with the rest of the cleanup crew. They likely figured I was another MIA, I would imagine. Took a little planning, and well worth it."

"So yore dead?"

"On a list somewhere, I suppose."

"And the gold?'

"Found it later, myself and Spud, out hunting. Nice timing too, as we had been speaking of the unspeakable choice of leaving paradise to go to work or remain and live on roots and grubs," adds Sir Jacob.

"Yep, it was a question of if we could actually make it living off the land or have to go off planet and work for the Centrists. They have all the money ever'where these days, it seems," Spud says.

"With finding this gold grubstake it became a rich land and living off it was easy," says Sir Jacob.

"'Course, no tellin' if or when it'll run out. No guarantees. We have certainly scooped the cream. Lot of hard work, not much gold last we tried," Spud added.

"But Michael's nugget?"

"Could be an anomaly," says Sir Jacob, "could be the next big strike, also. Unfortunately, the odds are on anomaly."

"Given this discovery we maybe better leave open as a possibility the conclusion that they were together, found the gold and started argyin'. And shootin' naturally follered that. Them fellers bein' of a lesser moral stature than us truly, not that we are interested in sharing outside the inner circle ourselves. Let the world remain dumb," says Spud. "So, we have the Sacred Injin Cave Ceremony, and now Gold Fever as our possible motives. Things are not panning down to one conclusion quite as easily as we had hoped.

"And, almost forgot, beefleggers," adds Spud.

"Beefleggers are just cattle rustlers, right?" I ask.

"True, beefleggin' is often done by rustlers, they kinda own the name. They steal cows and sell them to the veggers. We, on the other hand, raise cattle. Ain't thieves. Beef's worth money, more steady, fingers crossed, than prospectin'. Keeps bread on our tables."

"But if everyone hereabouts is a vegger, who do you sell the cattle to?" I ask. "Ain't it illegal to sell to veggers?"

"At first we only had enough cows to feed the local town here, MadDog.

"But as our herds grow we need new customers so we have expanded to some small outlaw colonies around the galaxy and, hell girl, we are beefleggers of a sort, too. We just raise cattle for the beef and then sell to the veggers, we're not rustlers. We are the good guys. The Federals just don't happen to agree that selling beef to veggers is legal. Meat is contraband."

"However," adds Sir Jacob, "any crime against the federals is an act of revolution for our side. Extremism in defense of free choice is not wrong. 'Tis not 'til the war is over that history is written, thence the winner becomes the good guy and the loser the bad. Of course, only the winners agree with the history books, the losers remember the other side of the story.

"Center claims people was always naturally vegger, but in the Hollywood stories they talk of sirloin steak, not soy steak. I think it's a government line of bullshit myself. If they didn't eat beef back then, why did they raise it? If they didn't raise it why are there so many stories of ranchers and cowboys?"

"And barbeques?" I add.

"Now our herds are expanding, we gotta ship further. Shame to pass a planet without selling some cows, far apart as planets are. There is a market for meat even on the most dedicated vegger colonies. Some folks just like it," Spud tells me.

"Centrists were just about all veggers for a while. They kinda forget about meat 'til they get a smell of bacon, then we get the converts. Many can overcome the desire because of their devotion to the vegger movement, much like a religion. However, others backslide. And we got their drug. Since it is illegal, they pay a premium price; in exchange we suffer the risk of gettin' caught."

"But a matter of tripping lightly past the Centrist Bobbies," reminds Sir Jacob. "They are mighty precocious Bobbies and armed, unlike their British predecessors. They joined up with the Aussies and armed themselves to the teeth."

"They got much the same armament that we do, only newer, more advanced, and have bottomless ammo budgets. As usual," says Spud, "they ain't the underdog. We is."

### 15 Snuck

Four days later Lone reports in after another, longer ride. "I have ridden a rodeada, all around the country," he says, "and finally found their camp. They are staying in that old line cabin on out in Tatonka. Seem to be a bunch of city slickers out messin' around in our country. Never did find out what they were up to."

"Did you find out anything else?" I ask.

"By the spirits, you won't believe it. I snuck in close enough to hear them fellers, when they come back to look for the body. They are plain clothes Federals, the same ones who were in the gunfight. Turns out we were collateral damage. Annie and I spooked 'em, and the black haired feller took a potshot. The bullet plowed a furrow in the air straight past her ear and continued on to hit his boss man across the clearing. So the bunch of them are plotting the usual snake in the grass rewrite, to save their own asses. They are going to arrest us or anyone else they can pin it on for the crime. We gotta skedaddle, any poor asshole found in these parts is gonna get framed and spend life in the penitentiary for killing this high Federal muckety muck."

"Can't they just blockade and pull us over on the trail through the canyon?" I ask. " We are boxed in here."

"That is exactly what could happen," says Spud.

"Then can we hole up at Sir Jacob's?"

"Naw. We need to be out there in MadDog getting our alibi fixed in place."

I look at Sir Jacob and say, "What about Headless and friend?"

"Cut up, examined and disposed of, no evidence remains to be found my dear."

"We want to be sure they don't stick around looking too close at things. We sure don't want Jakey's Hole in the Rock to be found," says Spud.

"So how do we get out?"

"There's only one way off this planet baby, and that's with me," says Spud with a laugh.

"Huh?"

"Rockchuck.

"If we ride over the mountains to avoid the roadblock in the canyon, we will be a couple of days getting into town. If we Rockchuck it, we will be in today. They'll figure there is no way time wise we could have been here at all. We just got to be sure and get noticed in town."

"Rockchuck it? What the hell is that?" I ask.

"Oh yeah, you're new here. Just follow me," says Spud.

We head into the creek and wade slowly up maybe a half mile, then we hightail it into another granite badlands maze, and by golly if there ain't a little ship hid up in there. Just enough for five folks and their horses. We sling the horses in the hold and Spud mans the wheel. By now it has been dark a few hours and honest folk are asleep in their beds.

"Strap in boys, and be sure your head is back against the headrest. This thing packs a wallop.

"Ready?" asks Spud.

"Yes sir," I say.

Sir Jacob handles the countdown. "3-2-1."

Other than the wind of movement through the air, the ship erupts from the ground noiselessly.

"Holy moly!" I exclaim. " My face feels purt' near tore off! A bit of G force there, you coulda warned me."

"Remember the head against the head rest? That was the warning."

"Welcome to Sir Jacob's rubber band air plane," says Wolf.

Spud drawls, "Yep, it's a bit more G's than airships pull on takeoff."

"A bit? Hah! No wonder you sling the horses," I say.

"Hang on, we're going in."

"Where the fuck we goin' in to?"

"The ship," says Spud.

The Rockchuck docks against a Starship, who knew. Before I get untangled from the seat belt the hatch opens. We go aboard.

"Nice big freighter," I say. We are standing on a catwalk overlooking a huge cargo deck.

"Needs a few things," says Spud.

"She's got air."

"Got a mechanic to get her up and runnin' again, and a good pilot. Here he comes."

A lanky feller in a space suit carrying his helmet saunters in.

"Howdy cowboys, welcome aboard S. S. Cosmic," he says.

"This here is Sky. Sky, meet Annie and Michael."

"Howdy."

"Pleasure."

"Sky is our pilot today. And, ironically, his name is Sky Pilot."

"Thanks, Spud," Sky says sarcastically. "My Ma had a plan when she named me Sky. She was a real stargazer.

"But at the moment I am more like the maintenance crew. I've been going over the outer shell today, why it's all aired up now. Plus, for me to breathe. Like they say on the water, a small leak can sink a big ship," says Sky.

We all stand and stare out the windshield at the stars and the Rock far below.

Sky mumbles, "And together we shall rule the galaxy."

"Say what?" I ask.

"Nothing," Sky muses.

Spud leads us off of the bridge and out into the cargo hold.

As we walk Sir Jacob says, "Surely it's not his real name?"

"Naw. Just the Sky. I christened him with the Pilot; being, in his words, a smartass. I like to think of myself as more of a godlike figure. Maybe y'all should address me as Captain Mullens."

"We got one too many hoity toity royals around here already." I snicker.

"I beg to differ. I consider myself to bring a civilizing influence to a primitive world populated by," says Sir Jacob as he sweeps an arm to include us all, "little more than apes."

"Maybe he had a different name in the Center but since he arrived here and I made the joke, that's how he introduces himself," says Spud.

"That happened in the opening of new frontiers all through history. A man..."

"Or woman," I add meaningfully.

Spud nods, squeezes my arm and says, "hmm.

"...with a shady past could move out to the edge and reinvent himself. Of course in Sky's case it's hard to ditch the crazy."

"Guess that's true of all of us. We like to think the people in the Center are crazy. But there are so many of them, if they really were crazy wouldn't it be the tendency of the species to die off?" I ask.

"I like to think of it as a checks and balances system. If they were all sane like ourselves who would start the wars and genocides that keep the population in check? Too many superior folk like us and we might have peace and harmony in our time," says Sir Jacob.

"Submits the man with at least four weapons on his person as he speaks," says Spud.

"Six and they're not weapons, they're Peacemakers. Sam Colt had it right."

"I like to consider them Peacekeepers myself," say I.

Spud waves an arm at the hold. "Fortunately, we were able to salvage this old cowboy pickup truck from a seriously wrecked condition. We pieced it back together and found a spare parts engine. Hell, she's almost as good as gold now.

"Nice amenities on board, we can travel in comfort. Just a few can crew her."

"Spud? I thought you were a wilderness rancher, horses, cows, caves, log cabins, wood stoves, what the fuck?"

"We can deliver our own beef, not be beholdin' to the big freight companies. They seem to eat up all our profits right now.

"A feller's gotta earn a living, this here will be the new Cosmic stock truck. We deliver to the carnivore worlds. Not too many of them, mostly veggers in the cosmos. I hear that before the Troubles such was not the case, though the veggers don't tell you that. But in all them Old West tales, by golly, a barbequed burger was, still is, the real deal. Cattle ranches weren't just for dudes to play at back in them days.

"Like I said, we use her to deliver cattle to market. Gotta sneak in and out of the veg worlds, so the government goblins don't find us. The carnivore worlds are not so bad, just way out at the edges of the Cosmos where the veggies don't hold the power. Long journeys. But with warp, we can shine time on.

"Never have to be under the boot heels of nobody again. We get lucky and find cargo on the turn around to keep food on the table."

"Get her runnin' again?" asks Wolf.

"Yeah."

"Broke down now?"

"No, she's runnin', just slow," says Spud.

"No warp speed?"

"Not so much, she ran for a bit yesterday. Then quit.

"Sky has her back now to where she'll idle about some. Man's makin' good progress."

"If she can't go nowhere, then why are we here?" asks Michael.

I say, "This tour is interesting but I'm right confused, thought we were headed to MadDog."

"We are, this is just a diversion," says Spud. "Like I said on the ground, we ride straight in out of the wilderness, looks like we could be the shooters."

"We are now arriving from outer space, haven't been on the Rock for a fortnight," says Sir Jacob. "Don't forget."

"We drop in out of space. We been off prospecting the asteroids. Got mineral samples in the hold to prove it," continues Spud. "They are here, in these bins, came with the ship."

"Does anyone hear a hissing sound?" asks Wolf.

"Sky!" yells Spud.

"I hear it," Sky yells back. He slides down the bridge escape pole, just like a firehouse, and runs by suited up, stuffing his helmet back on. "Oh crap, excuse my French." He passes through a hatch, dogs it down and heads for the airlock.

After a mite he reappears.

"Just a loose bolt in the exhaust, wrench, little caulking. No problema."

"Knew you were the man for the job, Sky." Spud turns to us. "Come on everybody, let's head down to MadDog. Catch you on the flyby Sky."

"Adios."

Holy cowpies, now I am a secret agent girl.

### 16 Dim Lights, Small City

We load into the shuttle and Spud runs us down to MadDog.

"Tell me again why didn't we just hop the Rockchuck in out of the wilderness?"

"Sharp eyeballs could spot us. Best to not take the chance."

"Unpowered? Not possible. With all that g-force?"

"I told you Sir Jacob was somthin'. It is a slingshot, he invented it."

Sir Jacob chimes in, "Just really an update of the old time slings on aircraft carriers. Mine is simple, quiet, a tad bit larger, and it effectively does the job."

"With no lights, just the whoosh, it is gone quick and it only makes the one noise, hell them cidiots likely think it's frogs croakin'. They are scared of every noise out there. Maybe they'll hightail it out. Be funny," adds Spud.

"Cidiots?"

"City idiots. You ever notice they seem half dim?"

"Well, yeah, just never heard the word.

"They called Michael and I 'hicks' when we worked near Center. Seemed hilarious, they knew so little. Couldn't even saddle a bronc, much less fork him. Jealous, I reckon."

"I must say, in their defense, that they are not so much cidiots as persons of a different skill set. However, I find myself, as a former cidiot, often boggled by your range of skills. A myriad more than one needs in the city. Things being much more specialized and persons much more interdependent in town. Here one must be a master of virtually all skills."

"So, you got the slingshot. Have you got beaming up?" I ask.

"Myth," says Wolf.

"You think?"

"That's just an old wives tale."

"I heard the Trek system has it," I say.

"Those guys? We had a bunch of them visit here. Total whack jobs. Not a one of them could even ride a horse. Hell, they didn't even figure out how to mount a horse. I mean that is as basic as life gets. How could they possibly do something as advanced as beam? 'Specially since it is a lost art," Wolf says, shaking his head.

"Actually," I say, "them guys don't have horses. Not everyone rides or even needs to. They got them car things, just get in, tell 'em where you want to go, and zip, yore off. No reins or nothing, just a moving box. It's weird. And scary fast. I rode in one oncet. No room for my horse inside though. Had to give it up."

"Food for thought," says Sir Jacob.

Spud takes us to a friend's house and we get a bath and put on our duds for the evening.

Spud has a funny look on his face when he sees I am in a dress.

Wolf ogles me and says, "Hell. You clean up nice, little girl."

"Close yore mouths, boys, afore yore tongues hit the floor," I say.

"Let's go get us a drink," says Michael.

"Now yore talkin'." I agree.

"You two proceed. We shall arrive momentarily," says Sir Jacob.

Michael and I head to the Short Branch Saloon, the only game in a one horse town.

We saunter in through the swinging doors, just like in the stories, and belly up to the bar.

"Whiskey, beer back, for two," I say.

We lean our elbows on the bar and squint up at the big sign by the mirror:

'Please keep weapons safely holstered until the need arises, then shoot to kill.'

Our kind of place.

"Busy tonight. What occasion is this?" Michael asks the redhead behind the bar. His Spanish accent is coming out strong.

I hadn't spent too much time in MadDog. But I had been in the bar when we first arrived for roundup and noticed the bartender; she is as cute as a bug and twice as tough. I wouldn't be surprised to find she had a shotgun hid behind the bar.

She delivers our drinks and says, "Welcome, my friends, to the show that never ends."

I slide some bills across the bar.

"No need, that fella in the corner over there seems to be celebratin', he's buying your rounds. Small town, word of free drinks gets around, everyone gets thirsty," she says.

"Thanks!" I yell to the duded up feller in the corner, wearing brand new 'cowboy' duds and sporting a handlebar mustache. Nary a cowpie has ever touched his city ass, and every crease is still in place.

"Bueno!" says Michael, then lifts his glass and offers a toast. "Salud, querida!"

"Cheers, Tio!" I say.

We set 'em down fer a refill. Barkeep pours and I raise my glass.

"Ay caramba. Where are your manners, young lady? We will go over and thank the gentleman in person," says Michael, whose Spanish accent is back in spades now.

He saunters over to the table, looking as sexually straight as an arrow. Always hilarious. I gotta cover my mouth and cough to hide the laughter. Michael does a great Spanish nobleman.

"Mighty kind of you, Señor, you are a gentleman," he says.

"Pull up a chair," says the mustachioed one. "Take a load off."

Michael hesitates. "Allow me first to introduce myself, Señor. I am Don Miguel Santa Cruz of the Rancho Fin del Mundo on Nuevo España. Mucho gusto en conocerle.

"And this lovely thing is the esteemed Señorita Anna Rockefeller. We are here de vacaciones. A beautiful planet this is for fun. And maybe we will find a few trinkets, ah, souvenirs, to commemorate our vacation."

"Pleasure to meet you. I am Jonathon Soames." He shakes Miguel's hand and kisses mine.

"You are from this area?" asks Miguel.

"I am now. Fortune has smiled upon me to be stationed on a planet with such beautiful visitors." He looks at me as he says it, but he winks at the irrepressible Don Miguel, who bats an eye slightly. Me thinks these two will be having a clandestine meeting later. Gaydar!

"Where, Don Miguel, did you find such a delightful creature?"

Jonny smiles at me again. Is this putz looking for a threesome? So much for gaydar, I'll never learn to read these things. Michael kicks me under the table. Guess I been out on the range too long. Can't think of anything else.

"She is quite beautiful, I agree," says Miguel.

"Your English is very good, Don Miguel."

"Mil gracias, I thank you," says Miguel and tilts his head.

"Here, let us have another round and discuss treasures. I may have knowledge of a trinket or two to your liking," says Soames.

"Ah, we maybe have business in common after all, one never knows."

"Miss Rockefeller, you travel with Don Miguel?"

"She is, in fact, my sister's daughter. I would say my niece, but I know that to have an unfortunate double meaning en Ingles.

"Ah, this is a bit delicato, aver, ah, I am escorting her home to her mother. My esteemed sister, Velaria, who married a tall, excuse the word, gringo. She take after her father in height and also temperament. She is young and rebellious. You see, she run away. I catch her and return her home."

"Uncle Miguel!" I stare at the table and try to look contrite and embarrassed, but don't know how, which is embarrassing, so it works out.

"I cannot let her out of my sight. I hired a dueña, how you say, a chaperone for her, but the woman quit after Annie bite her hand while trying to escape. I fear for her virginity in this rough frontier, but my negocios, my business, must also be done."

"Tio Miguel." I stamp my foot. "It is unseemly to speak so frankly to a stranger!" This time I really do blush, actually turn bright red because I am holding my breath to restrain the laughter. My virginity, hah. Wouldn't be the first time I lost it, nor the second, neither.

"My dear, you must respect your elders. As you know, I am a superior judge of character. I can already tell that Mister Soames is, like me, a man of substance and good will. He is simpatico. You should judge all men to this high standard. A girl of your advanced age must be finding a husband before you begin to wither."

"Like a heifer on the auction block?" I smile.

"Anna, watch what you say!

"May I ask your pardon, Señor Soames. We should not bore you with our silly family troubles.

"Allow me to inquire, let us speak of your family. Your wife, she must be very beautiful to have such a powerful husband?"

Soames preens and says, "In fact, Señor Santa Cruz, I have never been married."

He gives me a googly eyed fish look which I am sure he thinks is flirtatious. Yuck.

"Ah, I see. You are of the age when successful men need a gorgeous wife to advance their career, and one of good family would be the best."

Now Soames is looking at me exactly like a prize heifer. He smiles and winks, openly leering at me. Then his tongue comes out. Oy!

Miguel turns to me and smiles blandly. He is having too much fun with this. I mentally stick my finger down my throat and gag.

"Yes, Querida, an established, mature man like Señor Soames here would be just perfect for a rambunctious girl like you.

"She is a beautiful and spirited young woman; however, a strong, macho husband could easily get her into line."

Soames looks me up and down again.

"I like a challenge," he says.

I stand up and put my hands on my hips. "I do not give a fuck. If you are looking for a girl who gives a fuck, look somewhere fucking else. Hmph!" I toss my hair over my shoulder and stomp off to the Ladies can.

Behind me I can hear Don Miguel continuing to grease the wheel.

"I didn't understand before, Señor Soames, for whom it is you work?"

"Don, ah, Señor Santa Cruz," Soames says and puffs his little self up. "I am the newly appointed representative, a sort of emissary if you will, of the Centrist government to the people of the Rock. We at the center of civilization have a new program to try to embrace our distant, less fortunate colonies. They need our every assistance."

Ah, he must indeed smell treasure. He, like many of his ilk, comes here to rape and pillage.

A commotion occurs at the door to the bar. I swear I hear horns of heraldry and sure 'nough, Sir Jacob, in his finest attire, makes his entrance with a cowboyed up Spud and then the resplendent Lone Wolf, in full Injin regalia, a few respectful paces behind.

Spud yells, "We ain't here for a long time, we're here for a good time!"

"Yo cousins, where y'all been? Spaced out?" the barkeep calls.

She comes around the bar.

"Cheers, Charley darling." Jacob sweeps her up into his arms. "We have, or so it seems, been off planet forever. Space walking,to be sure."

"Space walking?"

"Nah, you know Jakey, he's always a little spaced out," says Spud, grabbing a hug of his own.

"We was asteroid prospectin', found some promising color. Run out of provisions, we're back."

"By provisions him mean firewater. Set us up," says Wolf, getting a hug and a big smooch.

I head back to Soames table looking contrite and say, "I am very sorry Tio Miguel, Señor Soames. I let my anger get the better of me. It is a rough time for me. Please forgive me." I sit demurely down.

Soames is staring at the bar. He rises and is suddenly in a hurry to leave, "Pardon me, Señor Santa Cruz, I have business to attend to. Here is my card, I am staying at the Granite Grand Hotel should you be in need of any assistance. Although I must say the term Grand is a bit of a stretch. Primitive planets have not the amenities of the civilized zone."

We all rise from the table. "It is my most fervent hope that we shall meet again. Enjoy your stay, Miss Rockefeller." He bows and kisses my hand again.

Soames heads for the door holding his hat on the right side of his face, thereby hiding his looks from the boys at the bar, and then as he goes through the door he finally gets it settled up top.

After he is out the door I whisper to Miguel, "Ugh, remind me to wear gloves in future." I trot off down the hall back into the Ladies to scrub the offending lip feel off the back of my hand.

As I step out the door of the Ladies, I smile at Spud who is loitering there and say, "Remember, we don't know each other."

"I think the gutter slime that just left is our man," says Spud.

"Could be, but his compadres may still be here. Also, word travels fast in small towns. Shit, here comes someone."

Spud wraps his arms around me, bends me over for a big smooch, nuzzles my ear and whispers, "Slap me hard."

"My pleasure," I say.

I pull away and...

'Bam!'

...slap Spud on the cheek.

Spud reels, almost falling over. "What the hell lady, I just wanted a little sugar," and stumbles drunkenly back to Wolf and Sir Jacob. He huddles up with Wolf, telling him a quiet tale which includes pointing and gesturing at me and a right smart bout of laughter on their part.

I return to the table where 'Tio' Miguel is sitting, telling him loudly and tearfully, "That filthy, unwashed cowpuncher tried to have his way with me!"

Michael stands and says, "Señor, I must ask that you meet me outside. You have attempted to sully the reputation of my niece! I must fight for her honor."

Spud and Lone snicker.

Spud says, "Hell, you might as well turn her out fer coin, no one will ever marry a big ugly loud mouthed girl like that. Long in the tooth, too."

Miguel saunters over and slaps Spud with his gloves.

"Outside!" yells the now shotgun wielding bartender. I knew she had one back there.

Out we all head, chagrined.

Some groundhog who has never seen the outside of a bottle and can't wait for the action to start takes a swing at Sir Jacob on the way out the door, saying, "Hey, you pansy ass dude."

Turning into the punch, Sir Jacob executes a fancy English barfly flip.

Groundhog's friends converge around Sir Jacob.

Spud stands groggily, revolver in hand, saying, "I'll shoot a man in a fair fight. Or if he's about ta start a fair fight."

"That's crazy. You can't just shoot people like the old time cowboys did," exclaims Michael.

"Oh, I beg to differ, we surely can, this is the Rock," Sir Jacob reminds him.

A fat guy in a suit shakes an arm and a derringer emerges into his hand, just as a knife appears in front of his windpipe with Wolf's fingers around the handle.

Soon the whole bar is outside and a' fightin'.

Michael has adjourned from the fray and found 'Señor' Soames down the boardwalk, where they stand, being 'gentlemen', and watch. They are a ways away and Soames has his hat brim pulled low over his eyes.

I, as the errant niece, am careful to throw a few epithets and weak punches at Sir Jacob's bunch to be sure the Fed knows I ain't with them. Then Wolf grabs me and plants a big smoocheroo on my mouth, my knees melt and I fall to the floor. 'Uncle' Miguel runs over to defend my honor and...

'Pow.'

...Wolf gets it on the chin. As he falls to the ground he winks at me.

Then Miguel turns and punches at whoever is biting him and Spud's eye gets in the way of his fist. Ouch.

Miguel manages to smash a couple of guys off their feet before moving back up on the boardwalk. He throws one diehard down with some fancy karate move and hogties him with his silk scarf. Careful, of course, never to mess up his coif.

Eventually some Johnny Law with a shiny badge and a big hog leg shows up and we all get arrested and inevitably poured into the pokey. Not really my favorite kind of an evening.

Who are these guys? Do I want to get involved with them? At this point though, after the two kisses, I was so hot for Spud and Wolf, I doubt this thought even crossed my mind. Maybe it should have. The fisticuffs had proved all them muscles were not just window dressing. They kicked ass.

Early next morning, still half dark, the sheriff comes in and says, "Rise and shine. Your girlfriend made bail. You need to get out of my jail now, save me feedin' ya breakfast."

After we have a while to rub the sleep out of our eyes, Charley comes in and says, "Let's go boys."

"We need to get out of here now," says Sir Jacob.

"Yeah, that's what the sheriff said."

We collect our arsenal, get buckled back in, and rub our aching heads.

"Hey, where's Michael?" I ask.

"Last I saw him was last night, he was talking up that Federal guy. He must have looked too respectable to haul off to the pokey," says Sir Jacob.

As we stagger out onto the boardwalk, Charley says, "You all seem to have made up overnight. Come on down to my place for some hair of the dog."

So we head for the Short Branch, which is closed before noon. We arrive and happily settle our asses onto some of the empty chairs.

Charley sets us up with Bloody Yankees. "I want to thank you kindly for takin' it outside rather than breakin' my expensive bar accoutrements."

"The shotgun got our attention," says Wolf.

"Come to find out that smarmy fella Soames turned you in to the Sheriff fer fightin'. I guess he was trying to make points with Señor Santa Cruz," says Charley.

Michael wanders in looking happy.

I smile and ask, "How was your night 'Tio'?"

"Alright, I did it. I did. I got lucky last night," admits Michael. "He may be the bad guy, but he was fun. And I'm in."

Spud turns a bit green and says, "We'll try not to picture that. Anyhoo, Charley, this here is Annie, and Michael. They'll do. Meet Charley, the owner."

"Pleasure."

Charley is a curvaceous redhead. Very stacked. Big smile, perfect for a bar owner. Folks have to order another drink just to see her lean over the bar in her low cut dress. Cleavage city. I am green with envy.

We sip for a bit, then Wolf starts it off, "Hey, Spud, good thing yore in the cattle business."

Spud is holding his head in his hands, lookin' pretty miserable. He peers up and says, "Huh?"

"'Cause yore gonna need plenty steak for that shiner."

Spud's eye is a swollen and sickly colored mess.

"Yeah, good thing you were already ugly otherwise that shiner would have spoiled yore looks. Haw haw," I pile it on. Always jump on a feller when he's down, I say.

I turn to Charley and ask, "What got a smart, good lookin' gal like you in the bar business?"

"I started on the pole, worked, slaved, saved, stayed away from the excess drink, drugs. I had a goal, be my own boss by 30 and by god, now I am. Come to the frontier where land is cheap and men are thirsty. Set myself up. And only 28 to boot."

We commence to toast about everything in the Cosmos, just plain happy to be alive.

After a big appreciative gulp, Lone touches his head and yelps, "Shit, my ear hurts, feels about tore off."

"Hmm, maybe red man have too much firewater." I chortle.

"You were the guy who forgot to take it outside; you hit some guy then turned over a table. That is how I got you outside, the old ear lobe hold. Renders men helpless," Charley informs him.

"What did you use, your teeth?"

"Pliers." Charley laughs.

Wolf touches his ear, more gingerly this time. "Ow, I thought you were red man's friend."

Charley smiles and says, "I might have taken my part a bit too seriously."

She turns to Spud and asks, "That alibi enough for you Spud? Ain't a person in the whole town didn't hear you boys hollerin' and shootin'. Everybody knows you are here."

"And no one knows who was on what side; at this point even I'm not sure," I say, feeling dazed and confused.

Spud just groans. We all head outside.

Charley, who is walking off down the boardwalk, turns and smiles at us. All the guys perk up and their eyes light up, bruises and hangovers momentarily forgotten.

"What woke you guys up?" I ask.

Spud says, "Charley is a sight better endowed than the most of women."

"We were just perusing her anatomy to be sure she is taking proper care of herself," adds Sir Jacob.

"Sorry guys, that's only a temporary cure, yore heads'll be hurtin' just as bad as mine again in a minute."

We trudge down to the livery, gather our horses, and skulk out of town in different directions.

### 17 Federales

Having evaded the Federals in the person of 'Señor' Soames, we were feeling mighty cocky. But we shouldn't a' been. Our cattle are all gathered up in one small unit and need to be moved on to the ship and off of the planet before they use up the feed.

After I get shed of town, I backtrack and meet up with Spud and Wolf.

"Thank the gods that Charley has an in with the sheriff," I say.

Spud and Wolf laugh.

"I got something you need to see," says Spud.

This meant going back in through the scene of the crime. We dasn't sneak around the canyon, it would look too suspicious. And as Wolf pointed out, our renewed passing through the area would serve to confusticate any investigators that might be snooping about. So we ride right into the eye of the hurricane, singing 'Old Paint' at the top of our voices, thus hoping to prewarn these dumb ass cocksuckers of our approach. We don't care to get shot up yet again.

After we get through Dead Horse Draw, Lone leaves us saying, "I got Injin business."

Spud and I continue on companionably together.

As we top a rise, we can see a rider speeding toward town.

"What's his hurry?" I ask.

"Cayuse Express. Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow, nor dark of night, nor prairie dog hole shall keep the Cayuse Express from their routes," says Spud.

"Oh, yeah, I've heard about those guys." Mostly heard they are hot young studs.

"Yep, I was one for a while. Wolf, too."

Yup, hot young studs.

"Not a job for the timid," continues Spud. "They really have it rough. The Cayuse Express Boys used to be another outfit, the Pony Express, a few hundred years and many generations of fast ponies back. The Cayuse riders ride at a full gallop on the best stretches of trail all over the wilderness. Folks are scarce out here, few and very far between. A letter is the way to talk privately across the land. The mail boys run three times a week. They have the Express schedule to keep and miles to cover between sleeps.

"They run a short stretch between Express stations, where a fresh horse is saddled by the station workers and ready to run. The rider has but to jump off, flip their saddlebags onto the next horse, hop aboard and fly again. Them ponies know the trail and make it their business to do it right. True they don't always run flat out, they have to pace theirselves so as not to kill their horses, or roll the horses and kill theirselves. But, if the ground can handle it they go from a fast lope to a full run in the straight open stretches.

"So ever' other day or so, a flash of speeding horseflesh can suddenly round the bend and scare the bejesus out of you and your horse."

"Adds to the excitement of life," I say.

"Yep. We trail the skittish stock on non-Express routes when we can or non-Express days if we can't. Not always possible in long stretches of rough terrain.

"Don't see them out where you were rounding up cattle so much. No houses out there."

Cayuse Express, the spice of life. Hot, young riders, too.

Lawsy me, I'm gettin' excited again.

### 18 Spud's Place

Riding down the draw Spud and I reach a vantage point with a fabulous view down to the beach. Below us is a sprawling log edifice, majestic by Rock standards, which is one or two rooms for the most part. Being a newly settled land, most creature comforts are a dim dream for the future.

"Now that there's a fine spread," I say. "Like to build one like that myself someday. How about you?"

"I like my place just like it is now."

"This too fancy for the likes of you, eh?"

Spud shakes his head and laughs.

As we approach the place I see that it is built of huge pine logs notched and set tight to keep out the weather.

We ride on down the draw and up to the fabulously carved front door. Spud dismounts and opens the door.

"My humble abode," he says.

"Holy cats and dogs, you must have the building bug."

"Did."

After we put the horses up, Spud takes me inside.

"Welcome to my lair. I have a bottle of Sir Jakey's finest. Shall we indulge ourselves?"

"Let's do," I say in awe.

"Have a seat."

While I settle on the overstuffed leather sofa, Spud grabs a bottle from behind the log and antler adorned bar and pours us a drink.

"Bottoms up."

"Damn, I was thirsty," and nervous, and gettin' kinda hot and bothered. I slug down mine and go fer another.

"You know, a few years back," says Spud, "there was a fiesta in Cowtown on Triassic. That is where you hail from, right?"

"It is."

"I went to this harvest fiesta lookin' for some fun. I spotted this cute little pigtailed girl twirling around in a red mariachi skirt. Never have forgot her.

"The music was rocking and I was watching this beautiful girl, finally I told myself to man up, for just 10 seconds. My Pa used to say 10 seconds of courage can change yore life. So I bucked myself up, walked over and asked if she wanted to dance.

"Quick as a flash she pulled a derringer out of her garter and pointed it at me.

"I said, 'Guess that means yes,' and sure 'nough we danced."

"Shit, that was me, but that was Walter who asked, a little skinny kid from out of town."

"You've growed a bit, Annie. I didn't recognize you at first. So have I, I'm still Walter, but most folks these days call me Spud. Something about a potato cannon I built back then. Sure had a lot of fun with that sucker. Always did like shootin' things."

I was floored. "Well, I'll be damned. Walter. You grew up also, filled out too."

"The Annie fooled me too, but then I heard that Federal fella Soames call you Señorita Rockefeller. I been studying on you ever since. You really are Rocky Rockefeller, ain't ya?"

"Roxanne."

Spud stares at me a minute. "Haw haw. Naw, I remember now, the boys there called you Roxy Rocks! Yore still a pistol."

"Gawd that was a long time ago. Ain't been called Roxy Rocks in years. We was just kids." I am truly aghast.

"Yep, stupid teenagers," says Spud. We both nod.

"Holy cow, does that mean we've already done the deed?" Spud asks, then he hesitates. After a moment of thought his face turns red and he says, "Damn, I shore think we did."

"No matter," I say, "no law against doing it agin.

"Yeah, Walt, we'll likely be a mite less awkward now," say I.

"Awkward, me? Naw that was you." by then we are both laughing.

"Sheeit" I say. "Speak for yore own self, bud. I disremember any awkwardness on my part. Ha ha ha." Okay, I'm lying.

"I think you, Roxy Rocks, will want to dance again."

"Parts of it are purely a blur." I must look hesitant, or even scared shitless.

"How 'bout we get more comfortable?" Spud pours us another glass of wine. "Follow me."

We head out to a back porch where Spud has a fabulous pool. "Swimming? Hot swimming, that is. There is a hot springs up the draw here, why I picked the spot. Great for soaking, swimming, talking..."

We wade in and find convenient underwater boulders to sit on and enjoy our wine. After a bit of drinking, soaking and general horsing around we head back to the wine bottle for a refill.

Spud laughs and says, "So Roxy Rocks, of all the planets in all the constellations in all the galaxies of all the Cosmos, how the hell did you end up here?"

"Hey, don't get fresh. I are a virgin," I say, "again."

"Seriously Roxy, you've been stuck in the deep corners of my mind since that dance, whatever the fuck it was. I always wondered where you went. We had such a good time, so much silly fun. It was a memorable evening.

"Then, I don't know what happened, hell of a one nighter. It was like a time warp, something happened, remember? We were saying that if either of us invented time travel that we would travel back to that time, that spot and relive that moment."

"OMG, what did we do after that?" I ask.

"You left. I thought it was just a one nighter to you."

"No, I didn't, I thought you left. I looked for you."

"Something weird happened, I wonder what," says Spud. "Something cosmic."

"Ironic, isn't it, that you named your ship Cosmic?"

"Not ironic, I remembered."

Whoa.

### 19 In the Midst of Battle

I roll over in the early dawn light to look into Spud's glittering blue eyes. "You are indeed quite the talker, Spud."

And an even better lover. Whooeee.

"I just wanted to continue our old fiesta dialog," Spud says and smiles. "You were my first, you know."

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls."

"No Roxy, I don't," says Spud soberly.

"It's okay, you had me at beautiful."

Spud smiles his signature shit eating grin.

"In that case," I say, "I myself will take the credit for starting you out right. I think, however, you been practicin' some since that dance, Spud."

"Yep, here and there. But, you really were my first, Roxanne. Wasn't 'til we got to MadDog and you got your hat off and a bath and put on that swirly dress that I realized who you were. Dayum girl, last night was sweet. How about another round?"

"Oh, yeah, let's." Our lips touch, oh my.

'Knock, knock.'

'Stomp, stomp.'

Coming up the stairs.

"Oh hell," says Spud, "that damn Wolf gets up too early."

I say, "Yeah Wolf is here way too early, oughter make him wait on the stoop while we finish our 'talk'."

"Come back later!" yells Spud.

Then to me he says, "Shit, shoulda locked the bedroom door." He glances that way. "Oh hell, he's already in."

Wolf is standing up in the bedroom doorway with a shit eatin' grin on his face.

"Go away, Injin," says Spud.

"Heck no, the little lady needs a real man, and here I am."

Nice. Wolf is shirtless, all painted and fixed up, feathers and all. A true beauty among men.

"Hey brother, white girl here need strong Injin man for real good time. She look happy now, but Injin make her ecstatic. Move over cowboy."

"Kiss my ass, Injin." Spud tries to look stern then breaks out in laughter.

"Scoot, I'll kiss hers."

Spud and I just lay there and smile.

"Alright," Wolf says disgustedly. "I'll go down and make coffee. Spoilin' all my fun," his voice tapers off. "If you were a true blood brother you'd share."

'Stomp, stomp, stomp.'

I look at Spud and say, "I thought Injins walked quiet."

Spud grins, looks in my eyes, wiggles a little closer...mmmmmm...

Yore imagination will suffice for what happens next.

***

Thirty minutes later, as we consider thirds, a new voice is heard.

"Hallo the house," Michael's voice from outside. "We are heere!"

"Hell, the whole herd is showing up. Rain check, darlin'?"

"You bet! Just one last smackeroo."

Enough commotion has occurred downstairs to cool the mood and time is awastin' so Spud and I drag ourselves apart, dress and toddle down.

While I pour my coffee, Spud, throws an arm around my shoulder, kisses my cheek and whispers, "Wow, Roxy you really do rock!" Big kiss!

"Hell yes I do." Corny as hell, but: Yay!

Wolf walks into the kitchen.

"Crazy white girl, him not as good as real fuck from Injin lover. 'Once you go red, you stay in bed'," promises Wolf.

"Sheeit! I've seen that little thing of yours," says Spud, laughing. "It ain't so much."

"Bigger than yours, white boy. Injin grower, not shower."

"Hey am I missing all the good cock, I mean talk?" asks a familiar not quite feminine voice.

"Yeesh, Michael's in the building."

Michael and Sir Jacob join us around the table, and Wolf starts pouring their coffee.

"I'll go feed," says Spud.

"No mind, I done it while you two were in the midst of battle. Hah, yore both blushing. It ain't no secret. Yore just lucky to have a faithful Injin companion to keep us on schedule," intones Wolf.

"I'll whip up some johnny cakes while you jaw, boys," I say.

"That done too, I got 'em here in the bun warmer," says Wolf.

"You're a good enough slave, partner," notes Spud.

"A pleasure to serve, master." Wolf bows.

"Spud," asks Michael, "you build this table?" The table top is one giant piece of wood.

"A slab from one huge tree. And the rest went into the staircase. It's one piece, steps, runners, risers and all. He built the cabin you see around it, too," says Sir Jacob.

"Wolf helped," says Spud.

"And Sir Jacob bossed us around," adds Wolf.

"Hell yeah, Sir Jacob worked and pontificated at the same time," says Spud.

"Yes," says Sir Jacob. "I am a man of many talents who can speak on innumerable subjects."

Humble, too.

"Hell, Spud and me got the work done cause we wasn't busy jawing," says Lone Wolf.

"Couldn't get a word in edgewise," agrees Spud.

### 20 Lone's Sacred Duty

We partake of a full breakfast spread with beef, beans, rashers of bacon, eggs, and johnny cakes.

"Them's damn good frijoles Spud," says Michael.

"Fit for the palate of a king," adds Sir Jacob.

As I spear another knifeful of bacon I ask, "You raise this hog, Spud? Mighty flavorful."

"Yep, homegrown."

Sir Jacob turns and says, "Michael, if I may ask without being indelicate, did you glean any information from Jonathan Soames?"

"I tried to get the conversation along on to those lines, but to no avail. Soames just wanted to party. Man sure loves his drink, drugs, and beautiful young men like myself. As he was nice enough to mention to me."

"Not a very helpful fella, that Soames," I say.

"Very helpful, he said I was beautiful," says Michael preening.

"Maybe you need a second date, if you don't mind. Should be safe to do, we seem to have killed all the witnesses to your true allegiance," ventures Sir Jacob.

"We'll have to think on that, see if we can come up with a new angle," says Spud.

"What activities have you lined up for today Wolf?" asks Sir Jacob.

Wolf says, "Let us haul this coffee in by the fire. We will sit as men, and women," with a nod to me, "do and discuss important things."

We move into the spacious living room and sit on soft furry cowhide couches and chairs. There are homemade tables and cabinets with antler handles, all of it fabulous handiwork.

After we get settled, Wolf stands up in front of the blazing rock fireplace.

"My friends, I have called you all together to ask a great favor.

"I walk now with a heavy heart. I have been taught my whole life to trust no one but my own people. But time is short before I must have help and my people are scattered and weak. Many have lost their way and now live in the Center with no thought or understanding of their innate Injinness.

"I must trust someone with the weight of my responsibility. My brother, Spud, I know is my sworn ally, you others have fought well and truly by my side. Injin must look as always to his friends. We are all human people."

"'Cept fer maybe Spud over there, he's a super hero, I hear," says I with a grin. "Sorry, hadda say it."

"Shit, Injin trying to be solemn, this is sacred trust. No giggling."

"You are right, Wolf. I, for one, shall be honored to be chosen to labour and also, if need be, to fight by your side," says Sir Jacob. "With a small dedicated group, there is nothing that cannot be accomplished."

"I don't know about that Sir Jacob, but, yes, Lone Wolf, I will be honored to ride by yore side also," says Michael.

"Count me in," from Spud.

"If you'll lower yore standards and take a girl, me too. We will all gladly join yore posse. Yore goals is surely ours."

Spud asks, "What's up, brother?"

"Show and tell is best."

As we rise to leave I spot something.

"Ain't that a buffalo hide on the wall?" I ask. "Where in the Worlds would you get one?"

"Ah," answers Spud, "good timing. I'll wager that Wolf is about to show us."

"Let us saddle our mounts," suggests Wolf. "It is a beautiful time for a ride. Pack enough gear for a few days. There is ground to cover."

### 21 Tatonka

After a few hours ride through paradise, with pine and cedar stands thickening around us, we arrive at the pass. As we stop to rest our horses the view is breathtaking. Through the notch created by the trail we can see a green park widening out below us and there before our eyes is a herd of buffalo beyond the scope of imagination. They are plodding slowly along, eating, pawing, old bulls fighting, young calves playing, cows giving birth, a moving nomadic scene from antiquity.

Even though many are stopped, feeding, rolling, calving, mock fighting, sleeping and just plain scratching, the pattern of the whole herd is motion at all times. Slowly, inexorably advancing together across a seemingly limitless sea of grass.

"Nature's playground," says Sir Jacob. "Just as the stories of old Earth relate, the Great Plains, a huge space like no other. One wonders if the grasslands of the Old World ever hosted such a sight in the time before the written word. The Sahara, the Gobi, the Kalahari, the Atacama, of course, the plains of Argentina and others. Quite possibly, I say. Each with their own species living as lords of all they surveyed."

"You know a lot about it," I say.

"I am something of a student of Earth that was. The parallels with the Rock here are amazing. It was terraformed in Earth's image. Of course Earth was what the original terraform designers and builders knew, so that follows. Nostalgia on their part, one could say, repeated throughout the Galaxies."

On the other side of me as we ride along, Wolf is saying, "Our quest was to find new worlds and live Injin, not white way. Injin be free like before Columbus time. Injin be own boss, hunt buffalo. Have horse, so maybe after Columbus time, but before rest of white man come. Injin, horse, buffalo. Paradise. Good life, Wolf like to relive. Try agin. Make right, all rich, full of food, happy, no cavalry! Injin Paradise."

We top out on a hill overlooking a beautiful slow movin' river and stop for our horses to blow.

"And here it is," says Wolf sweeping his arm across the horizon.

"Holy shit, look there," whispers Michael.

Just a ways downstream a herd of buffalo is fording. We watch in awesome wonder as they wade and swim en masse. Many float a good ways downstream before reaching the other side.

"Must be a thousand of them shaggy motherfuckers," says Spud.

"'Tis a sight for this Injins old achin' bones," says Wolf.

"Yeah, what are you compadre, all of 24?" I ask.

"My ancestors' bones then. Hey ya hey ya hey," continues Wolf. "They say if you sit by the river long enough you will see the body of your enemy float by." He looks meaningfully at the white folk around him. Us.

"Those words, my heathen friend, are attributed to Sun Tzu," says Sir Jacob.

"Yeah, no doubt that old fucker stole it from a' Injin," says Wolf.

We all laugh, and shake our reins. The horses move out. We've miles to cover before we sleep.

"Which quadrant of our vast Cosmos do you hail from, Annie?" asks Sir Jacob.

"Triassic, born and raised."

"Dinoland?" asks Lone Wolf.

"One of the dinosaur planets."

"There's more than one?" asks Wolf.

"Oh yeah," I say. "Once old what's-his-name figured out how to regenerate them, he and his followers filled a whole solar system. Each planet has a different time shot of the Dino Eras. They colonize them then study how they evolve.

"They started with a team of experts to study their creations, then they figured out it would be cheaper to bring agricultural people in to supply them rather than sending ships of food and supplies. Along with everything else, they wanted regular meals. So they opened up the land to homesteading, enticed farmers, ranchers, and the like.

"My people settled there, ranchers, done good for a long time."

"So you learned to cowboy herding dinosaurs?" asks Sir Jacob.

"No, the scientists thought ahead, they put the agricultural types on a different continent from the dinos. Like most of the planets, it had lots of oceans between the land masses. The dinosaurs were established on Alpha, we were on a big Island called Omega. Long swim, a thousand miles maybe from Alpha.

"Anyhow, it worked out real well. Hell, I was a fifth generation Rockefeller. I grew up cowboyin', birthin', brandin', chousin' predators, fixin' fence. The whole ball of wax. Hell, over the five generations my family had built up a hell of a nice place. Big house, big barns, fenced pastures, we had a ton of open range, miles. We looked out the window, everything we could see belonged to us. We done good.

"But we finally had to leave."

"The dinosaurs acquired long distance swimming skills?" ventures Sir Jacob.

"Nope." I pause to give 'em time to figure it out.

"Well?"

"Learned to fly.

"Suddenly instead of coyotes, bears, and wolves, it was velociraptors and their 20 ton cousins. Big chickens, we called 'em. Once they found out how easy cows was to catch, though, and what beef tasted like, they wasn't chicken no more."

"Yeah, I been there, like going on a wild goose chase. Only place in the galaxies where the geese chase you and they ain't geese, they're much bigger and mighty hungry," adds Spud.

"They purely love beef.

"Them suckers swoop down, they don't even have to land," I continue. "Pick you right up in their talons and wing away. Calves, too. Foals. Hell, full grown animals even. We tried everything, throw nets, guns, booby traps, even had a Gatling gun going, fun to play with, but the suckers bred like rabbits. It was war. We lost a few folks, too, after they discovered long pig. Rough times."

"Gave 'em hell, eh?" asks Spud.

"We tried and tried but we lost. We had to quit while we still had the money to get off the planet. They literally ate us out of business."

"You divested yourselves of your properties?" asks Sir Jacob.

"No buyers, ain't no one that stupid. We ain't the kind to lie about the situation."

"Now that," says Sir Jacob, "is a classic example of Chaos Theory. Chaos Theory deals with the unpredictability of complex situations."

"Yep, clone up a bunch of giant extinct creatures, turn 'em loose. Yeehaw!" I say. "Happened on Cretaceous too, the tourist planet. One day the dinosaurs got their fill of gawking humans and attacked.

"And Mesozoic, often a whole group of pioneers will disappear, not one will be heard from again. Ships go in to deliver supplies, nobody home on a whole planet.

"Occasionally, a ragged group of survivors will emerge scared shitless. Hop on the ship, never to return.

"Time passes, people forget or just think they are tougher than the previous bunch and it's deja vu all over again.

"I figure eventually the dinosaurs will grow thumbs and send out their own trade delegation."

Michael laughs and says, "If dinosaurs wore t-shirts they would say: 'Send more pioneers, the last ones were delicious'."

"So what did you do?" asks Spud.

"Hopped on a ship while I still had money for a ticket. Traveled to a few places, worked a lot of jobs. Finally got a job workin' cattle in the Center. On a 1000 acre place! Got sick of being crushed by humanity real quick. Only good thing that happened there? Ran into Michael. He started out in Dino country too. Couple of cowhands, lost our way. We struck up a friendship right quick.

"Feller passin' through told us about the Rock. Said there was space to think out here and work for experienced hands. So we worked there another season, saved up space fare and beat cleats out here.

"Mighty fine planet y'all got here."

Michael joins in, "You know, the comic book guys have their own galaxy, too. I visited a planet there once. Those folks need scads of planets for all their imaginating. One advantage, nerds don't hunt and kill each other. At least I don't think they do."

We laugh.

### 22 Next

"What are we going to do next, Wolf?" asks Spud.

"We are going to bring what is hidden into the light."

"If the weather holds we can get over the pass up there. There is an interesting area on the other side. Hot earth, hot water," says Sir Jacob.

"Spud has a hot spring," I say.

"Hm, him take you swimming, just like other girls."

"Quiet, Wolf," hisses Spud. "I was keepin' that on the down low."

"Annie not stupid, brother," says Wolf, then continues, "Same hot water here, but more. Water also shoot into sky. Spook horses."

We are riding along a peaceful valley with a babbling creek. It has been a long morning. We are on a wagon road, so Wolf and I are riding side by side.

"Our journey is long, but we must protect the Spirit Cave."

"Should we stop and stretch our legs or are we almost there?"

Wolf turns and stares at me as our horses continue to perambulate down the road. Seconds pass, we are rocking easily in our saddles, the horses heads are bobbing in time. I can smell the green shoots of the last Injin summer grass. Wolf keeps staring.

I raise my eyebrows, "What?"

"Wolf not know."

"You don't know what?"

"Wolf not know where it is."

"What? The Spirit Cave?"

"Yes."

"You are the Guardian, how could you not know?"

"No one know."

"What?!"

"I go to powwow of the Chiefs."

"And?"

"No one come. I wait many days.

"Little Owl finally show up say chiefs all dead, one alive, but brain has left body. Other die, heart quit. Last one, ship crash, dead. One missing no one know where. I come here to search, not sure, but think this the place."

"No one knows where the Spirit Cave is?"

"I think, on this planet."

"You think? You don't even know which planet?"

"May be misdirection," offers Wolf. "Plan meeting here, if chiefs know of bad men maybe have meeting here only, cave elsewhere."

"You think chiefs would do that?"

"Wise men, very wise, counsel tribe, guide us in tough universe."

"So now you need new leaders."

"No, not lead, guide, provide counsel. All Injin truly free, no leaders. Each Injin his own leader. No one else. It is the Way."

"You never collaborate, always alone?"

"We form team, alliance, only when all agree. If not agree, no team. True freedom."

"Ah. And the cave?"

"I am Guardian, train from small child years."

"But the Council?"

"They expect me to apprentice and eventually join Council, them not expect to die young. Booze, too much food, accident. Wolf not ready, too young, not think. Sent to this planet as child because it here? Wolf not know. Injin inscrutable even sometimes to other Injin.

"I think it is here. I follow you, I follow shooters, maybe someone know where is Spirit Cave. Maybe I see a sign. I know signs to find cave. I find, maybe take long time. I am young, long time okay, but if someone else find first? Very bad. Not good. Injin power rest in Spirit Cave. Very bad if others find."

"This is the journey you have asked us to join. To find the cave?" I ask.

"Hm."

"But why us? Why not get your kinsmen or others of your tribe?"

"Like I say at Spud's, me ask, they have white mans' excuses. 'I gotta work. I'll lose my job. I got bills to pay.' They have lost the Way. They are not Injin now. Our tribe, our heritage is in danger. I am but one man.

"I think these men at the line shack have evil intent. Maybe they are crazy for gold, but maybe they think there is Injin treasure."

"Is there Injin treasure?" I ask.

"For Injin, yes, treasure beyond counting, but is it valuable like gold to White Eyes? Wolf not know. I think only sacred things, spiritual things, not treasure. Maybe just strings of beads from white man." Wolf chuckles. "But elders never say. I always think there is time to learn of these things. Knowledge was to be mine when I had acquired the wisdom to take the responsibility. Time stopped for Wolf when these men left from their bodies.

"Wolf responsibility now to regain Injin Spirit, it reside in cave."

"Oh boy, maybe we bit off more than we can chew."

"Faith, Annie, we have to trust that the Spirits will guide us."

"Man, Wolf, when you speak of this, you sure sound Injin."

"Mmm."

"You fellas seem to be takin' this in stride." I glance over my shoulder. Spud, Michael and Sir Jacob have fallen back a ways. None of them has heard.

"You gonna tell the boys?"

"Hm."

I ride along and ponder this for a while. Was it a yes or a no?

Then Wolf says "Our last Chiefs Counsel meeting before was on the planet of the twin suns."

"Hawaiia," I say in awe. The planets of the twin suns. I have helped deliver cattle to some planets, including the twin planets of Makai and Mauka. Names based on the Hawaiian words for nearer and farther from the ocean. Spirit words.

Makai being closer to the suns is a tropical paradise, lush, warm, fabulous. Mauka is more temperate with desert grassland type flora and fauna, better for some breeds of cattle production as it has less bugs and disease due to having hard freezes in the cool season. Makai though, with longer growing seasons, has more total grass production. Both, fantastically beautiful.

While humanity has advanced to the point of being able to terraform and make planets habitable, the size and distance of the relative astronomical object along with its orbital path around its sun is still the ruling factor of a world's climate. The size of its sun, major. Hawaiiia's suns have the same names as their respective planets. It's a Hawaiian thing, I reckon.

"Yes. Makai, tropical, but we are high on top of the mountain of snow, a spiritual place on a spiritual planet. It is dusk. Makai Sun has settled below the horizon and Mauka Sun is just about to join it. We are watching for the green flash of Mauka Sun before we start. It is an important sign.

"Afterwards we go into the Spirit Teepee which has been painted and blessed for the ceremony, the fire is perfect. Built and tended by Coati.

"Moxie has the pipe. He speaks of many adventures. He is a talker. He passes the pipe to Many Horses, who speaks also. Then it is the turn of Great Sorrow who lost his wife to the plague. The elders nod and hum. Ancient Owl tells of what he has seen. Pieces are added to stories, variations of what happened are discussed. Disagreements are laughed away. The chiefs are wise enough to know that each mans' journey is different. Even at the same place and time, each man has a different experience even standing next to each other, so how can it all be real? And so it goes around the circle. The chiefs speak of many things. Often they speak in allegory. I am very young, a novice. If I start to slumber Moxie nudges me with an elbow. Stories are long and full of meanderings. I listen, but many things mean little to me.

"As I tell you this, I remember the stories of Many Horses catch my attention. He is a good and entertaining talker. There is much laughter in his words. We laugh at his antics until we roll on the floor. Even the Elder Chiefs, the men of great dignity are reduced to laughter, so much that the tears flow down their faces. Moxie nudges me during one story and says, 'Listen well, Dancing Colt. Remember.'

"I try hard to listen, but I am very tired from days around the fire listening, the teepee is warm inside despite the blizzard without. My belly is full of buffalo hump and I am so tired.

"Today, as I look back, I am thinking that maybe the location of the cave is in these stories. A clue. I must meditate on this, herbs must be taken. A smoke ceremony. Heat, thirst, drink, walk, ice, fire, an answer must arise from within. If I listen closely I can hear the spirits of my teachers and their teachers. I have traveled many journeys on this planet, seen many things. All my life until now must lead into a journey to place of the Spirit Cave. I know this, in my bones I know this.

"I must have trusted companions for this, this Buffalo Odyssey. You are my compañeros espiritual."

### 23 Meanwhile Back at Camp

After a quick saddle bag lunch of hard tack, cold biscuits, and agua, we have a little powwow. Then Wolf and Sir Jacob take off fast to scout the line shack.

"Get a feel for what we are up against," says Wolf, spiritual sucker.

As dark approaches we come down into a beautiful meandering stream with big cottonwood tree coverage in the bosque. Rocks, flowers, trees, trout in the shallows, all that good shit.

"Just another fucking dinosaur free day in paradise," I say.

Spud laughs and Michael and I count our blessings. We both had had way too many close scrapes before we escaped the dino worlds.

We ride in to see Wolf and Sir Jacob lolling in the grass at stream side. As we walk over a dog stands up and growls.

"Your dog bite, Wolf?" Michael asks.

"Bitch not mine, hers," says Mr. Laconic.

"Annie's? I know that ain't true," says Michael.

"Naw, bitch belong herself, free like Injin, not runnin' dog of government like white man," says Wolf. "You white folk move slow, British Lord and Wolf been here hours. We got four fish, need more."

We get down just as it starts to drizzle. We pull on our ponchos and unsaddle, then loose the horses to graze. We throw our hand lines in the water. Soon we'll have plenty fish fer dinner. Maybe.

The bitch watches us all from under a dry tree.

"We are near enough, time to make camp," says Wolf. "Across creek in edge of trees, nice cove, good firewood."

"I see it over there," says Spud. "Water and good shelter from the wind. Fire camp, be frost by morning."

"Singin' to the choir Spud. Annie and I been campin' fer a month, winter's movin' in," says Michael. "We been forced to cuddle to save wood."

Spud cocks an eye at me. "Y'all sure he's gay?"

"Damn sure. Not for my lack of tryin' though," I say. "He won't even switch hit."

"I am pure in my heart," says Michael.

"Cain't argey that," I agree.

We all split up for separate chores. Collecting firewood for heat and soft pine boughs to cushion our soogans, and balance rocks for the cook pot. Wolf unpacks the food and pots from the camp pack horses.

Michael and I drag in limbs and brush and build a quick fire heated lean-to. Sir Jacob looks up from thatching the roof, watches for a bit then asks, "What's better, brush lean-to, teepee or a wall tent?"

"It's an age old controversy," says Michael, "but I feel they each have their place."

"Then there is the Whelan lean-to, champion of the fire camp," says Spud, as he pulls a long bag out of the panniers.

"The main consideration in the wet is the fire. Since we had to pack it all in here on horses, a fire with a lean-to on each side is the perfect dry out and warm back up solution," agrees Michael.

"Yep, snug in our bedrolls."

Every piece of dead wood in the country is wet from the last few hours of rain and drizzle, so Sir Jacob and Spud fan out in search of sheltered spots where they might find some dry sticks to get a quick cook blaze started. Michael wanders off and returns up in an armload of pitch wood.

"Nothin' but the finest fer my brave compañeros," says Michael.

Michael stacks the wisps and kindling. I take the damp twigs and whittle into them to get to the dry interior, slivering the edges to make more kindling. A dry sliver stick can make yore day in this weather. The pitch wood don't take too much help to light.

Soon we are settin' in our lean-tos, food on the fire. Wolf is feelin' in his war bag for fixins'.

Spud pours the coffee and we all commence drying our backsides.

Wolf stuffs his pipe, which is a marvel of carvin' and decoratin', and lights up our evening med'cine.

"Don't forget to share," says Sir Jacob.

Wolf smiles and passes the pipe around.

"Finest kind," says Spud passing it on to me. "Wolf always has the best weed."

"Injin Spirit blend, make us happy, not sleepy. Long ride and first class meal make us sleepy. Annie Talks To Horses say Michael first class chef."

"Ah," I say. "Yes. It is so."

"Nice tender pup meat on the hoof right there," Michael says and points at the stray. "Dog tacos, hombres?"

"'Nother month or two be more meat, still tender," says Wolf and winks.

"Hell, she won't stick around. Wild already, look at her eyes, Michael," I say.

"We must address him as Don Miguel tonight as he cooks from the recipes of his Mexican heritage," says Sir Jacob.

"Sir Jakey spotted them tortillers," says Spud.

A bit later Michael says, "Grits on."

"Say what?" asks Spud.

Michael laughs and says, "Grits for the gritters."

"Come on Wolf," I say. "Grit down."

"Mmm, good vittles," says Wolf. "Grit down, I like it. Maybe I learn Mexican, too."

As we eat, I look up and see an extra set of eyes across the fire. The bitch has joined us. She is sitting quietly. After we finish, I gather the leftovers and head over to share. The bitch backs off, so I set them near where she had been sitting and retreat. She takes her time, but eventually hunger overcomes her reticence and she sniffs in slowly, eyeing us. We sit still, talking and appearing to ignore her, while watching her out the corners of our eyes.

Spud looks at Wolf and asks, "What did y'all find at the line shack?"

"Wolf take big circle, Sir Jacob him go close."

Sir Jacob says, "I settled in on that ridge top behind the cabin. What I saw, I cannot explain, maybe drugs?

"There were two men runnin' through the woods. They were starkers. It was like they were children playing tag. One was chasing the other, skipping and laughing."

A light bulb comes on over Sir Jacob's head. "Oh, of course, they were frolicking. Oh my.

"I've been in the company of rough tough cowboys for too long. One forgets."

"Good thing Michael didn't hear that, he'd skin ya." I laugh. Michael is off gathering more wood.

"Of course, how thoughtless of me. My sincere apologies all round. One thinks of ruffians as being rough."

"Just joking, Sir Jacob. Michael has a planet class sense of humor, even toward his own self."

"Starkers, what the hell is a Starker?" asks Spud.

We all laugh at that.

"Oh, Spud, not to worry," says Sir Jacob. "They were naked!"

"Naked Starkers?"

"Yes, no, yes, naked means starkers."

"Oh."

After a fine meal and another pipe we open our tarps and crawl into our bedrolls, with a nice bed of coals and a few big logs at hand to keep us warm 'til morning.

A last word of wisdom comes from Sir Jacob. "Stories are the 20th century myth, passed down to us. They are still the campfires we gather around to pass along legends. Only a very fortunate few of us still create and share the real experience. I thank you, my boon companions, for sharing this with my humble self."

"Humble, Jakey? You crack me up, pard," says Spud.

We fall off to sleep smiling, the stars twinkling above. The hours pass in comfortable beauty filled dreams.

Outside the lean-to the rising sun is melting the frost. The shadows are still white, sparkling with the tiny crystals. A beautiful sight. The brook is babbling, could life get much better?

We stir up the coals, scramble up some eggs and warm last night's biscuits with our coffee.

Sir Jacob sips his joe, admiring the sunrise. "For centuries we have been searching for a unifying theory of everything, a zero point energy field containing all knowledge and experience from the beginning of time."

"Oh, come on, you aren't physicists," I say.

"Better yet, we're cowboys," says Spud.

"You know anything about that chaos theory they talk about?" I ask.

"It has to do with there being order, and even great beauty in what looks like total chaos. And if we look closely enough at the randomness around us, patterns will start to emerge."

"In that case, explain weather," says Spud.

We laugh.

As I walk across the clearing to catch up Spike, I notice that our makeshift horse corral is empty, gate open.

"Someone has stole the whole remuda. Damn it," I say, "looks like civilization has done caught up with us. Cain't be helped. What's done is done."

Wolf looks around and says, "No, what's done is never done. And it maybe never happened."

Sir Jacob offers, "What we see, what we hear. All that our senses present to us is fabrication, no more real than a dream. We can only know that which we believe. That which we believe, that is all we have."

Spud says, "Jake's right, Wolf too, in this case of deception. I went out before dark, turned 'em out. You just didn't see me. They're trained camp horses, won't stray far."

Wolf points and says, "See here? Only boot tracks by the gate latch are Spuds."

Everyone laughs.

Red faced, I whistle and after a bit Spike and Boots come trotting in alone. Michael and I saddle up and climb on board.

"Guess you fellas are walkin'."

About then the rest of the remuda comes sauntering around the corner looking for a handful of grain. The rest of the boys saddle up while Michael and I dismount to load the pack string. The bitch is still around, but keeps her distance.

"I do believe that bitch is a cattle guardian dog from the look of her. She might tame down and work, she is just a big pup," says Michael. "We could damn sure use a good dog fer runnin' predators off the calves."

"You bet," say I.

### 24 Line Shack

After a few miles of riding with the bitch not far behind us, we climb a hill. Spud raises an arm and we all dismount and crawl up to the ridge top.

"This is not really a very clever hideout. It is, after all, our line shack," says Sir Jacob.

"But them dudes don't know it, they likely think it is someone's small abandoned home," counters Wolf.

"In a situation where bullets are flying it is important to have a general plan and a General to coordinate it all. So we are working together, not at odds," says Sir Jacob. "In these situations Spud is our leader, being the most locally experienced and having, I believe, untapped leadership qualities. He will come up with the plan."

I look at Spud. Spud looks confused

"That's good, right?" asks Michael.

"Possible you weren't around for some of his previous plans," mutters Wolf.

Meanwhile Spud and I are deep in discussion.

"We've talked this through, I even took a course," I say.

"Talkin ain't doin'. Talkin' ain't learnin' either. Doin' and doin' agin, over and over agin is learnin'. We call it experience," remarks Spud.

"Book learnin' is useful," I insist.

"Sure it is, so is talkin', but look at the FNG, fucking new guy, death rate in any war. Them fellers, just arrived from school, no field experience, die like flies," warns Spud. "They ain't no substitute for experience."

"Yore own book learnin' is bound to have helped, too. It ain't all experience."

"Hells bells girl, if I had wanted book learnin' I'd of gone to school."

"What?"

"Close yore mouth, girl. Yore catchin' flies."

Wolf says, "Spud and I did not go to school. Much of our not going to school was done together. I feel that has left us not smart, but smart ass."

"Actually we was home schooled. Hooky was our favorite class."

Sir Jacob says, "I have in fact observed, through long association, enough to know that under my ass is a horse much cleverer than either of you."

"Hell, horses are smarter than all of us," I say.

"Which explains why she talks to them," says Wolf.

"That loosened us up," says Spud.

Sir Jacob adds, "The much maligned school of hard knocks is, I believe, the best school of all. It hopefully includes a visit or two to the library or better yet the oracles themselves. There is much wisdom to be had from some of even the most common of men."

Spud looks at me and says, "Trust me, you need to hang back or stay out of it. Okay?"

"I can provide cover fire," I say.

"Okay, but be careful."

"She is a crack shot," says Michael.

"Long as she don't get her personal head shot off," says Spud. "Okay, Annie Oakley, you stay up here, use the sniper rifle. Don't shoot me."

"Or Injin," adds Wolf.

"This is crazy! We can't just shoot people like the old time cowboys did," says Michael.

"Must I remind you? This is still the Rock and we are old time cowboys," says Sir Jacob.

"No black and white. All shades of gray," adds Spud.

Michael and I chew on that a bit. The others wait patiently.

His Dukeness peers all around, surveying the layout. Then he walks over to the ammo mule, pulls out a full bandoleer and lifts it over his head.

"The element of surprise is a formidable advantage in combat," says Sir Jacob as he loads his revolver, then reaches for a rifle. He has another rifle slung over his shoulder and few grenades at ready to stuff in his vest.

Wolf looks at Sir Jacob. "How many weapons you plan to take? Ya got but two hands."

Sir Jacob says, "A lot of choices present themselves. I plan to be prepared for all."

"There's a lot of fine ways to die," says Spud, "and I ain't waitin' for the Centrists to choose mine." He cocks his gun.

"First rule of Injin warfare, do not let them know where you are," says Wolf. "I will circle round."

"I thought Spud was in charge," I say.

"Wolf read Spud mind."

"We been workin' together fer a long time," Spud agrees.

"What we need is a robust backup plan," says I.

"We'll just sneak up," says Spud.

Suddenly, Michael rushes out of the bushes below us screaming, "I'm here, I'm here, they're coming to get me. Help!"

"Or create a diversion, an alternate school of thought," says Spud and then he scuttles off.

Michael goes up and pounds on the door, still yelling.

Eventually he turns the knob, walks in.

We wait.

In a few minutes he comes back out.

"Shit, the door closing, all the rattling I heard?" he yells up.

"One guy, he just died. He was still jerking around, leftover muscle spasms. Dead as a doornail now."

"Objects are not deceptive, they are deception," says Sir Jacob.

Wolf stands up on the other side of the shack, shrugs his shoulders.

Spud rises from behind his bush. "Fuck! Okay, let's search for a clue, anything."

Wolf disappears.

"Annie and Jake, stay here and keep an eye peeled, this could be a diversion to out divert our diversion. Be sure yore both watching different directions at all times. And don't lose them damn horses." Spud walks down the hill kicking innocent rocks. "Damn it!"

"Is he grouchy?"

"So it would appear. Big adrenaline buildup, only natural, he expected answers," says Sir Jacob.

"Hell, me too."

Spud joins Michael in searching inside the cabin. Wolf stays outside casting around looking for sign. The bitch is about 50 feet from Sir Jacob and I, alert and watching both the cabin and the perimeter. Just like us but with better nose and ears.

After a bit, out of the corner of my eye I see the bitch swivel her head. I look over my shoulder to where she's looking.

"Hey ya," says Wolf quietly.

I jump, Wolf has sneaked up agin. "Damn Injin."

Wolf says, "Bitch see me, protect you. Good Spirit Dog."

"And wipe that shit eatin' grin off yore face."

Wolf grins. "Wolf bring dead man mare, nice quiet ride, make good foals."

"Good foals?"

"Part of Wolf horse herd now."

"Thievin' Injins, give us all a bad name."

Wolf laughs. "Rock rules. Besides, him no have next of kin, me check."

"Okay. You look in the root cellar?" I ask.

"Cellar?"

"Over in the trees north of the shack."

"Not know about that."

"I 'bout lost a bull in there during round up. Some rock pilings from an old house, likely burned down, fallen down chimney, not much else. Root cellar 'bout 30 yards north. Right in them thick dog hair trees. Didn't look in the cellar, bull ran off again so I got too. Figured you knew of it. Probably should check it out. Just in case it ain't fell in."

"I go tell Spud and Mike. You move north on ridge, cover us."

Sir Jacob and I move back from the rim. I gather the horses, tying the ones who'll pony to their buddies so I have less of a handful of reins and heads.

"Easy, Boots, Spike. Let's go boys." We quietly make our way north, Sir Jacob keeping a good lookout. I tie a couple of the horses; hobble and ground tie the rest and meet Jacob on the rim. The bitch sets up just a bit south of us. She seems to be as careful as we are about being quiet and laying low.

"Could it be this is not her first battle with humans?" wonders Sir Jacob. "She is certainly careful."

"Woods are full of wolves and Mexicans," pointing at himself, "that love puppy meat," says Michael.

Wolf laughs and says, "Best keep eye on Michael."

"True, the boy loves his tacos," I say.

Spud meets us at our new overlook.

"Point it out to me. Don't want 'em to hear us thrashing around down there lookin' fer it. Can't let 'em know we're coming until we are all set up."

"Look down there where that dead snag, looks lightning struck is, see it?"

"Okay."

"That's where the fallen chimney is, it don't stick up into sight from here. But over here just below us where the hillside meets the flat if you look off to the left maybe 40 feet, you can just see a stovepipe, real rusty, sticking up out of that brush patch."

"Aha. Okay."

Just then we spot Wolf who holds up three fingers and makes the horse sign. Then two fingers and makes the human sign.

"Is Michael going to do the chicken run agin?" I ask.

"No, I told him to calm down this time or I would shoot him," says Spud.

"But he looked so cute."

Spud says, "Michael didn't find evidence of any other visitors here. Maybe these guys shot the guy at the line shack, hard to say."

"Did he figure anything out about who kilt the guy at the line shack? Any last words or such?" I ask.

"Nope." Spud gets up. "We'll wake those naked starker cocksuckers right up," he whispers and heads down the hill.

I set the sniper scope right in front of where I think the door of the root cellar should be in the brush. When Spud arrives at the bottom he tiptoes over and I can see him drop a grenade down the stovepipe.

"Holy shit, I thought we wanted them alive. And any evidence!" I exclaim quietly.

"Not to worry," whispers Sir Jacob.

After a few seconds, smoke comes pouring out along with shadowy coughing figures.

"Drop your weapons now!" yells Spud.

"We just want to talk," says Michael.

They drop and roll and start shooting wildly, not seeing us. One spots Spud and draws a bead.

I aim for a shoulder and pull the trigger, but with him rolling it hits center and the guy stops moving.

Sir Jacob lobs a grenade down into the woods, hoping to distract the second guy. But the guy must be a soldier, he ignores it, draws down on Spud, then falls. The sound of Wolf's shot follows.

Michael walks out carefully, using trees for cover. We can't be sure that no one is left in the root cellar. Wolf covers him, as do we.

Spud goes over to the stovepipe and yells down, "Come out on five or I drop a real grenade."

Of course, we want to look at what's in the cellar, it's an empty threat.

After Spud gets to two, Michael rushes in the door, guns in both hands. All is quiet though. Michael comes out after a minute, coughing. After a breath he says. "Seems to be all clear, I disarmed the trip wire, just smoke left. Couldn't stay down there yet, we need to wait for the smoke to dissipate."

Spud is checking the wounded, one is moving. He yells, "Jakey, bring yore bag!"

I stay up top in case any other baddies are nearby. Sir Jacob runs down and works on the wounded.

Meanwhile Michael and Spud go toward the root cellar.

Bitch gives me warning agin, flicking an ear. Wolf shows up by me. "Good dog, never make sound. You go down, help. Wolf watch."

As I go down the hill, Sir Jacob yells. I hear two shots. I stop and look. Sir Jacob is looking at the wounded guy, who is doing the death shake. Sir Jacob's head is bloody.

I run down to help.

Jacob is standing looking down at his patient. "It's unseemly shooting persons of substance. Not to mention the very doctor trying to save your life, you bastard."

Sir Jacob has a tiny derringer in his right hand. The bad guy has a hole in the center of his forehead.

Sir Jacob looks at me and says, "There was concern that I was bringing too many armaments, ha!" Then he passes out. Spud and Michael have arrived by this time.

"It's just a scratch," says Michael,

Michael pulls out a bandana. "Compression, Annie."

"Wake up you Brit bastard," says a distraught Spud.

"Is he okay?" yells Wolf.

"Head wound, lotsa blood, but only the scalp, not bone. Probably not a problem, depends," Michael yells back.

"Depends?"

"Bigger caliber, more of a shock wave. Concussion is my concern here." Michael opens Sir Jacob's eyes one at a time, looking for trouble. "They seem to be dilated equally, a prayer couldn't hurt here, anyone got religion?"

"Damn, lotta blood," says Spud. "Hit a bleeder. Wolf's up there right now keepin' lookout and prayin' with his eyes open. Prayin' to his heathen Injin gods. Best gods of all. If prayer works, Sir Jacob be just fine."

I pray too. I believe we all are prayin', havin' high regard for our royal friend.

Sure 'nough, in a bit, our prayers are answered. Sir Jacob moans, rolls his head around. He puts his hands up to his forehead and opens his eyes.

He looks at Michael, who is aiming his knife towards Jake's head, and says, "Ye gods man, lets, uh, not cut off anything important there."

"Just a shave and a haircut pard, not to worry."

Sir Jacob laughs painfully and says, "Good lord. I must indeed remain amongst the living, I am surrounded by my beloved heathen friends."

"I prayed hard for you, Sir Jake," I say, "but I'm not religious, so there's the risk that my praying could be taken as an affront which might make matters worse."

"Faith is but the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. I verily believe all prayers are seen the same. Thank you, my dear Annie. You seem also to have saved my veritable bacon by shooting the other bloke."

Sir Jacob sits up, sways, then rests a bit. We all watch and worry. "Relax children," he says. "My head is much too hard to be bothered by a mosquito bite like this."

Michael draws Spud over toward the root cellar, stopping a ways away to confab. Then Spud covers Michael while he heads toward the entrance. In a minute Michael sticks his head out and calls, "All clear. Wolf, you should come look at this."

Then Spud walks back to us. "Thought we had a situation but it looks to be taken care of. Booby trap. Michael disarmed it his first trip in. Stone cold, that guy."

"Yeah, seen it before," I say. "Blurs his swish image of hisself, so we don't talk about it when he's in the room."

I run up the hill to spell Wolf.

Spud and Wolf go in the cellar. Michael comes out to keep an eye on Sir Jacob. After an exam of Sir Jake's wound, the two wilderness docs head out to search the area around the hideout.

Eventually, just before I die of starvation, they show up at the bitch and my's outpost.

"Looks like we got them all. One man per horse and a pack animal. Saddles tell the tale. And not enough sign for another," says Michael.

"So that Soames, the Federal, one of the dead?" I ask.

"Nope, no sign of him," says Michael. "I think we are okay now. We got the bitch to guard for us, we'll see how she does, and of course the horses always are a help. Come on down, we'll rustle up some vittles."

We gather up the ever patient horses and head down the hill. I unsaddle and turn them loose to forage while the boys gather wood.

I look around at the carnage. "Lotta dead bodies."

Michael says, "Personally I deplore violence, but that was totally worth the loss of karma points."

"Let's go fix us a meal."

Then I go over and hallo the root cellar. Spud sticks a head out. I ask him, "We're lookin' to fix a meal. Shall we fire up out here?"

"Yeah, close in here, lot of junk. Still smells of that smoke bomb, too."

After the fire is going and food is cooking, Sir Jacob heads up the hill. On his return, he says, "That bitch is still up there watching. Bloody good lookout she is."

When grits are on, we call the searchers out.

They emerge grimy, but smiling.

We fill our plates and set. After eating our fill, we coffee up.

"The suspense is killing me," I say. "I got a feelin' you found something."

Wolf nods and intones, "We have found something that will change everything."

### 25 Evidence

"That bitch gonna be a good enough guard if we all go inside?" wonders Michael.

"Maybe," I say, "maybe not. I can go up."

"Naw, you should go in and see, if Wolf lets you. I'll go help the bitch, we ain't known her long, and four eyes are better than two," Michael volunteers. "I seen some of the stuff, anyhow you can fill me in later. Fijate, this vaquero can guard your gringo scalps." Michael heads up to join the bitch on watch.

Wolf takes the rest of us down into the root cellar. There are two small dirt floored rooms, with shelves for canned goods and bins for veggies. It smells of smoke grenades, dirt and mold. Wolf leads Sir Jacob into the second room where I can see a large table under a kerosene lamp. They are looking at something on the table. In a bit, they confer in low voices, then I hear Sir Jacob say, "Empirical evidence suggests, but it is difficult to say, maybe..."

While I intellectually respect their right to privacy, curiosity overcomes reason so I strain my ears to eavesdrop.

Spud says, "We can likely all crawl in there and look as soon as Wolf or Sir Jacob gives us the say so. It ain't a secret, well, maybe it is. Hell, I don't know. I just found out myself. Damned if I know what to think."

Wolf looks up and motions us in with his chin. "Wolf need Sir Jacob's intuitive reaction first. Come, my brothers, look. You too girl." He smiles.

We all crowd in around the table.

Wolf raises a hand and says, "Many delicate papers here, better use careful touch."

"Burnt, half burnt. The smoke grenade?"

"No, it only emits smoke, no fire," says Sir Jacob.

Amongst the papers I see snatches of things I recognize. I run my eyes slowly around the table, seeing patches and pieces of words and names, some sentences.

"What is all this?"

"Look here, John Wayne, treasure?"

"What the fuck?"

"Is this the Hollywood history?"

"Or just more clues."

"...bits and pieces of..."

Spud is over looking at things on some oak shelves against the walls. He says, "Look. Over here." He picks up a stack of papers and carries them over to a bare spot on the table.

We see scraps of sentences on the papers. Many are damaged by fire and time. They talk of: Seven cities of Tzibola, artifacts found in Spirit Cave cached by the Tzibolan Medicine Men. Moccasin telegraph presaged Estevanicos arrival. Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca, Fray Marcos de Niza, Francisco Vasquez de Coronado."

"What are these talking about? A Spirit Cave on Old Earth, conquistadores, what does that have to do with here?" asks Wolf.

"There is also a map," says Spud. He carefully moves a few papers to reveal a detailed map.

"Earth?" I ask.

"No, here. See, we are here," says Spud.

"And the bloody Spirit Cave, just over here," says Sir Jacob. He points at a symbol on the map.

"Hells bells! So you suppose someone brought Spirit Cave contents out from Earth?" I wonder aloud.

Sir Jacob has found a magnifying glass. "Unless the map is a hoax."

"Whoa."

"It would seem unlikely, but maybe there were escape flights before Earth was destroyed, refugees."

"Saving their history, their essence," Wolf says.

"I mean, I was present for the terraforming. Indeed there were ruins of cities. Possible, unlikely but possible."

"Sounds like hooey to me. Hell, Earth was blown all to hell and gone in the Troubles. They say no one escaped. As we all know 'they' say we can always believe everything 'they' tell us," Spud says and scratches his head. "I'll be a son of a bitch."

"A mistake generally made by almost everyone, my dear skeptical Mr. Mullens," mutters Sir Jacob, "believing what 'they' say."

"Wait, there is another Spirit Cave here. See? Just on the south side of this hill." I point.

"Two?" We all start examining the map more closely.

"Dang, here is another, Spud." I point it out.

"Here also," says Wolf.

"Red herrings? Or a code?" asks Spud.

"Let us gather all the evidence and anything looking even remotely like it might matter. We go to my teepee, safer," says Wolf. "No one sneak up to surprise us."

"You up to a ride Sir Jacob?" asks Spud.

"If all the difficulties were known at the outset of a long journey, few of us would ever embark," says Sir Jake. "In other words, indeed I am."

We start gathering the papers carefully and placing them in the hard sided folders the bandits have conveniently left us. We pack the folders in the panniers, load them on the interlopers pack horse, tarp them over, and throw a diamond hitch to lash it all down.

Suddenly, a pebble hits the ground near me. It's our signal, I look up at the hill at Michael and he signs that someone is coming. Not friendly. We should go now. We throw saddles on horses without cinching up tight and lead them out of sight into the trees.

Michael comes down the hill and tells us, "It's Soames, about 10 minutes out."

"Maybe time for that second date, if you don't mind?" says Sir Jacob.

I say, "Soames? Gross, is there anyone you won't sleep with?"

Michael shrugs and says, "There's an entire gender I won't sleep with."

We are all cinching up as he speaks again. "Basta, you all go. 'Don Miguel' will circle back so that Soames and he arrive here together. He will be shocked that the papers are missing and may even care that these guys are dead, if they are his guys. Maybe he will spill the frijoles."

"Be careful, compadre."

"Seguro que si. Voy a ver, I will see what I can find out." Already getting into character, Don Miguel lopes off.

We cinch up tight and skedaddle at a high trot before Soames is in earshot, relieved that the papers are secure in the hard cases.

"Not a moment too soon. You are psychic, Wolf," I say.

"Unh unh, Injin prescient, not psychic," explains Wolf.

### 26 Don Miguel

I head up on top where I have a good view of Michael as he leaves us at the root cellar and circles back to meet up with Jonathan Soames.

He trots out making a long circle so that he comes up on Soames from behind just as they come through the notch below me.

"Hallo, the rider!" Michael shouts, trotting up the trail behind Soames.

Soames stops and looks back.

"It's Don Miguel, do I not recognize you Señor? Señor Soames is it?"

"Oh, yes," says Soames. "Señor Don Miguel, approach."

Michael walks his horse closer. "Good morning Señor, I thought the hat was familiar. How are you this fine afternoon?"

"Good, good. What brings you out this way, Don Miguel?"

"I am looking for my niece, she has, how you say? Ah, pulled the disappearing act once again. Do you have children, Señor Soames?"

"No I do not."

"They can be a trial, but a wonderful trial, I assure you. In my culture, children are our legacy. We hope they work through the wild years and mature into solid persons," says Don Miguel. "But the wild years, ay yi yi, they can be difficult.

"I am so sorry to bore you with my trivial life. How is it you are on paseo out here, Señor?"

"I am indeed out for a ride, admiring the country. Paseo, as you say. I have some friends to visit on down the trail."

"Then we can ride companionably together for a few miles, yes?"

"Certainly, you may find these gentlemen interesting. They too are searching for treasure or souvenirs as are you."

"Ah, tesoro. The lure of treasure is a great temptation even to the most esteady of men. I look forward to meeting your friends," says Don Miguel.

I lower my rifle and crawl away from my lookout. Then I mount up and lope off to join the others.

***

Once again we are traveling through Tatonka. Buffalo herds are grazing everywhere and the grass is belly deep on our horses. We trot around the buff, stopping twice to tighten the hitches on the panniers so our precious cargo doesn't jump off the sawbucks.

"At this pace I believe we'll make yore place easy afore dark, Wolf," says Spud.

"Maybe, wanna beat that big storm. Keep papers dry," says Wolf.

"Yeah, I've had my eye on them clouds, too. The tarps over the panniers should do it, but a big wind can get water in the damnedest places," I say.

"Not to mention that we are the tallest things out on the plains here," adds Sir Jacob. "Tall gentry are lightning rods."

"I always figured it was the short folk on the tall horses that drew the zingers," I say to Wolf. "We're safe."

"Why Wolf ride pony," says Wolf. "Wolf notice Annie Talks To Horses ride pony too. Like our Mongolian fathers."

"I never trusted a tall horse. Long legs, no sense." I look around at the boys. "Applies to men folk, too."

"Hey!" Spud leans over for a smooch.

"Aren't the Federals gonna miss all these folks we been killin'?" I ask.

"Guess Don Miguel might be on the hot seat right about now, explainin' that," says Spud.

"Naw, Soames won't suspect him, our friend Don Miguel may appear to be a fool, but he is not," says Wolf.

"How many have we killed anyway?" Spud smiles at me. "Believe I've lost count."

"Blimey, life is complicated. Even the best of motives can have awful consequences, intended or not," says Sir Jacob.

"I definitely intended to shoot center, assholes were trying to kill us," I say.

"In this branch of business apparently," Sir Jacob says, "we don't fire them, we fire at them."

"You bet."

### 27 Lone's Camp

We climb once again out of the meadows and wind up into the tree line. By late afternoon we top out in a pass. Below us is an open grassy park with copses of trees around the edges and along the creek. There is fog laying in the bottoms.

Smoke rises from a side draw.

"Here we are."

"Here we are? Where? I don't see nothin' but open range."

"Wolf's 'open' range, as you say," says Spud.

Wolf leads us down the trail.

"Hey ya." A long haired woman in buckskins steps into the trail ahead of Wolf. He hops off, leans down and hugs her then remounts and gives her an arm up behind his saddle.

I look at enquiringly at Sir Jacob who has pulled up beside me. He says, "That, Annie, is Wolf's mother, Coati Chaser."

We trot on down the draw. When we get out into the flat we come upon a giant white dog who comes over the check us out. Coati Chaser talks to her, but she looks behind us and growls.

Sir Jacob turns his head back the way the dog is looking and says, "I'll be bloody damned, the bitch is still with us."

Spud looks around. "Sure 'nough, thought she ditched us at the root cellar."

Sir Jacob agrees, "I haven't seen her all day either."

"Annie see her," says Wolf.

"Yeah, I talked to her when I got off to pee. Guess you boys weren't gawkin' after all."

The white dog goes over. She and the bitch raise their hackles and do the growl and paw routine.

"They work it out," says Wolf.

I can see the white dog's partner on the other side of a sheep herd that is just moving into sight.

"Pair runs this bunch all by their selves," says Wolf.

"Fine lookin' guardian dogs," I say as we continue down the trail.

We circle down through the thick trees and turn up the side draw where I spot smoke. Hours of drizzle have wet us down and softened us up, the rising smoke has a magnetic attraction for us.

We come into a ring of three beautifully painted teepees. Camp is all set up with a cooking tripod over the central fire, A-frame drying racks with meat a jerkin', hides stretched on hoops. There's a corral for ponies and other stock with a hollow log stock tank. Windmill, solar panels. Wolf pulls up and Coati slides off his horse.

I look over at Wolf's face, snug under the hood of his intestine rain poncho. "A real beauty of a camp setup, Wolf. Yours?"

"Unh unh." Wolf shakes his head, flinging water in all directions. "Coati Chaser camp. Wolf have teepee here."

We get off our horses, Spud and Sir Jacob unpack and rush the panniers inside while Wolf and I unsaddle and loose the bunch. We grab our tack and duck in out of the drizzle.

I am so fucking happy to be in out of the rain which is now starting to pound on the teepee skin. My legs are cramped, I am more than damp, the rain has crept up my arms, my sleeves are soaked to the elbows. My chaps kept most of the weather out, but around the edges a cold wet has crept in from the wind blowing my slicker off of them. I am cold and wet to the skin in enough places to be shivering. Thank the gods I have a warm horse who heated me all the hours of the afternoon. And now, after the outdoor chores, a warm teepee to rest my trail weary bones.

"Starved too, hope there's vittles," I mutter.

Wolf ignores my grouchiness and introduces me, "Mother, name Coati Chaser, this is my new friend Annie Talks To Horses."

Coati Chaser comes over and looks me carefully up and down. I feel like she is about to open my mouth and age me by the wear on my teeth. She just about does, pretty intense scrutiny, then she pronounces, "Annie Talks To Horses make good wife."

"Hey," I exclaim.

"Not worry. Wolf think so too," says Wolf.

"What the hell?" I look to Spud.

"Coati Woman has spoken," says Spud and goes over and wraps her in a big hug. "Hey, Ma, that girl is mine."

"What the fuck?" I gasp.

"Close yore mouth Annie, not worry. Spud share with elder brother, you no lose me."

"Yes, Coati know all," says Coati. A real shy flower this one.

"Coati raised that pair," says Sir Jacob, "and a right fair job she made of it. Taught them the importance of sharing."

Spud and Wolf both grin, stare at the floor and turn red in the face.

"Sheeit!" I groan. They all laugh, even the stern looking Coati. Son of a bitch, maybe it was all a practical joke. Wife? No fucking way. I can barely put up with me myself.

Wolf stirs up the coals and throws a log into the fire ring in the center of the teepee. Coati stirs the stew and moves it to the cooking fire, which is all coals.

Sir Jacob and I arrange the wet saddles and blankets far enough out toward the edge of the teepee to be out of our way but still dry out from the warmth of the fire. Wolf inspects the panniers. "Good. Dry inside."

"Come," says Coati. "Sit. Let us relax and wait for food to heat." She busies herself with pots and things.

Lightning strikes a tree outside, close enough our hair stands on end.

"Glad this tempest didn't strike earlier when we were out in it," says Sir Jacob.

"Are you all wet, too?" I ask. "I am the wettest I have been in a few, usually my slicker does the trick. It was that damn wind."

"It slipped in between my hat and collar and ran down my neck there at the end, sure glad the teepee was close," says Spud. "The fire feels great, Ma."

"Old way better, Wolf dry," Mr. Speaks-in-third-person says.

"Wolf too tough to admit otherwise," says Coati and smiles at him proudly..

We are all settle around the fire, leaning on fur covered chair backs, roasting our cold fingers in the warm glow of the coals.

"Many horses, my sons," says Coati.

"One gelding, three mares," says Wolf.

"Ah, praise the spirits."

"Mother like horses, good ones work for us and make babies, ones she not like we sell for money," says Wolf as he lights a pipe.

"Horse bring food. Horse bring all good things. Horse founder of civilization. All good things, horse, buffalo, sheep, cow, goat, make Injin strong," corrects Coati, taking the proffered pipe.

"Shame history didn't stop at horses," I agree, accepting the pipe from Coati.

"Ah yes, the Industrial Revolution, the most important development in history? Or the most devastating horror the Cosmos has ever seen?" Sir Jacob ponders aloud.

"Pardon me, Coati, I digress and bring bad thoughts to your teepee," says Sir Jacob. "I will return to speaking of good things. My dearest Lady Beverly has sent a round of her mighty goat cheese for your larder." He hands a cloth wrapped parcel to Coati Chaser.

I lean over to Spud and ask, "Lady Beverly?"

"Ah, you haven't met the great Lady? Sir Jacobs' mother. A true aristocrat, raises goats, makes fabulous farmstead cheese. Plus Coati milks her sheep. So we get both goat and sheep cheeses and mare's cheese in season. Living in the lap of luxury."

Coati passes a bowl of cheese and bread around.

"Fabulous. Coati's home ground grains baked into bread, her sheep manchego and Lady Bev's smoky cheddar," murmurs Spud.

We are pigging out again, with goat stew and taters as the main dish.

"Damn, Michael would appreciate these frijoles, they from here?"

"I grow them and the grain down at my place, longer season," says Spud.

"We winter the sheep down there too. Soon be time to head them down, 'fore the cold weather closes in," says Wolf.

"Soon is after tomorrow," says Coati.

"Yes mother, if you say so, soon has arrived," say Wolf and Spud more or less together.

Sir Jacob looks at me, winks and says, "Coati actually runs this outfit, those boys just pretend to be in charge. Given time they may attain her wisdom."

Wolf and Spud glare at Sir Jacob. He adds, "It may be a long time."

"Maybe you will too, old man," jokes Spud.

"Hell, she ain't ready to loose the reins just yet," says Wolf and winks at his mother. He has caught the winking disease too.

"Young men may achieve wisdom in time, maybe not. Much still to learn from elders. First lesson, learn to listen."

"We listen occasionally," says Spud. The boys exchange a glance.

"But with elders being scarce and time short, we need a miracle," says Spud.

"Miracle, phht, ain't no such thing," I say.

"Papers and maps we bring maybe help," says Wolf and bows his head.

"A miracle is what seems impossible, but happens anyway," says Sir Jacob.

"Yes, Injins need miracle," says Wolf.

"Miracles do happen," says Spud. "Maybe just need some help happening."

"Indeed. Idealists don't get much done, they mainly talk and dream, it takes manual labor, even brute force to finish the job," says Sir Jacob.

"Unfortunately, we seem to be the cannon fodder this week," I add. "Thought I was smarter than that."

"According to Coati, you've fell in with the wrong bunch fer smarts," says Spud.

Wolf says, "We smartass, close enough."

Sir Jacob turns to me and says, "We had an adventure a few years back, bloody kids, Spud and Wolf were maybe 12-14 years old. In this world adulthood can sneak in real early. They were raised on the frontier though, like you and your stories of Triassic, even the 10 year olds might need to wield a rifle. The eight year olds stay busy reloading.

"Things get tough, it must be done to survive. We all happened to be on the way into town to pick up supplies which were coming in on the annual cargo ship. We were coming down Badger Canyon into town from our various homes and camps, not really acquainted yet, but come to find out, of one mind.

"The Federals were looking for some outlaws who had robbed the payroll from the ship and landed here to hide. They had already scoured the town with no results.

"So being afoot and not horsemen of any kind, they set up a roadblock just outside of town. They told us if we had guns the outlaws would take them away and use them to kill us and then use them to fight the Federals.

"So they ordered us all to surrender our weapons and go into town. For our own safety, they said.

"You see, we disagreed with the first order. Those weapons were our safety. And the second order. Our homes were in the country with only us to defend them. We couldn't abandon all our work, our livelihood for the outlaws to take, or even trash and burn to ashes.

"We picked up our guns like they asked, but then rather than surrender we raised and fired them. Took them by surprise.

"The young boys stepped up. It was Lady Beverly, Coati Chaser, myself and them, everyone else surrendered.

"We are a fine example of a scruffy group who, working together, give each other the strength to carry on. We are much greater than the sum of our parts," says Sir Jacob.

Wolf looks up with that special light in his eyes and says, "It is what the first warrior said to the Great Spirit. I have told it before, but it bears repeating and it may be new for you Annie.

"The first warrior looked out on the land that was his home. He saw the hills and the stars and he was happy. For giving him his home, the first warrior told the Great Spirit that he would fight and win many battles in his honor. But the Great Spirit said, 'No, do not fight for me, fight for your tribe. Fight for your family which is born to you. Fight for the brothers you find. Fight for them,' the Great Spirit said, 'for they are your home.'

"We have become a family and this has been our country since that day.

"The people who surrendered their weapons? They live in town now. Fine enough people, just not cut out for this life.

"They name town after us. MadDog, used to be Dodge. That was us on that day. MadDogs, not give in." Wolf adds in conclusion, "We are now the MadDog Clan and proud to be so."

I am speechless, pondering on these people and their bravery. Holy cowpies.

Coati smiles and breaks the silence, "Brave warrior must feed fire in soul. Apple pie."

Spud serves it up.

"Delicious."

"Home grown apples, honey and wheat, beef lard. Farming has its rewards," says Spud.

"Naught but the finest ingredients and an exceptional cook, my compliments Madam Coati," says Sir Jacob and bows in her direction.

Soon it is time to roll into our soogans, glad to be inside with food in our bellies and the teepee skin between us and the elements. We cuddle near the hot coals which have dried and warmed us against the chill.

### 28 Spirits Speak

Next morning the steady drone of raindrops has stopped and we are up to greet the sun. We step out of the teepee to find a dusting of snow on the ground, less than a' inch. Coati's cats rub on my boots.

"Gruesome and Glacier," says Spud.

The bitch comes out from under a thick tree. The heavy branch cover has kept her warm and dry. She wags her tail, ready to work. The cats hiss once and she cowers. Pecking order is established, they are friends.

The trio follows us around as we feed. "I fucking love the smell of hay and horse shit in the morning," I say.

Spud says, "Cain't argey that."

We hop through the chores. A long night of wild and crazy sex has left us hungry and just a mite tired.

After the stock is checked and fed we get another good Coati cooked feed in our own bellies.

"Now I know why you and Wolf are such good cooks."

Spud says, "Runs in our family. Let's go wash off the trail dust."

We walk out into a stand of trees and over to the base of a big red hill. Ground fog is rising with the heat of the sun.

As we round a bend a magnificent male body, all in the buff is standing on a rock above a steaming pool of water.

"Oh my gods, hell of a bathtub, love the lifelike statue," I exclaim.

Wolf naked, long, lean and mean, smiles and dives into the spring. Plenty well endowed, I just happen to notice.

"Damn," I say and lean over to see just how cold it is. "Holy shit, Spud. Another hot spring?"

"Life is good on the Rock."

We strip and join Wolf, soaking our trail weary bones.

"Paradise," I say.

Sir Jacob and Coati have wandered up, disrobed and joined us.

"Yep, that's what we call it. But never to others, we no like share. This Injin Nation," says Wolf from across the pool.

Spud says, "We cultivate the MadDog image expressly to keep out the riff raff."

Sir Jacob adds, "There are a plethora of other places like this on this continental edge, it is an active volcanic slip zone. Plenty of room for others to find their own paradise. We like ours private."

"Yes," agrees Coati. "But this the best spring of all. We find, we claim. Homestead for MadDog Clan. Summer here, but move with sheep. Winter, sheep go to Spud homestead, low warm country, powerful ocean, good Spirits."

Sir Jacob has closed his eyes and he and Coati, who has tilted her hat over her eyes, seem to be asleep. Or just in Nirvana.

"Yikes, you folks are all buff. Do you have a work out group or are you all gay?" I ask.

"Scared?" asks Spud.

"Okay, yikes may be the wrong word. I ain't complainin'. The inner worlds, full of fatties. Set at a desk all day, gross."

"We actually work. Hard, physical, outdoors. Came to this world, it had nothing but dirt, rocks, plants and animals. Brought, hauled and built all the rest ourselves. Only real problem we got here is a shortage of frontier compatible women. Not an upscale life here." Spud pokes Sir Jacob with an elbow and adds, "'Less yore Jakey's gal."

"But the Spirit Cave? More than just dirt."

"If it exists. Intriguing, eh?" says Spud. He gets out of the pool and walks into the woods to take a leak.

Wolf swims across the pond and sets on the underwater shelf by me.

"Morning, White Eyes," greets Wolf.

"Actually I have blue eyes, I wonder why they called them white?" I comment.

"From distance yours look white, ours look black, to man who never see only brown eyes, White Eyes look scary, maybe Spirit. After use of gun by White Eyes to kill Injin, Injin learn White Eyes _is_ evil Spirit. White Eyes not brave like Injin who count coup by touching enemy with stick but not kill. Much more brave," says Wolf.

Spud has walked back over. He sticks a foot in to join us and says, "Plus he memorized all them Hollywood Cowboy and Injin stories."

"Yeah, me too."

"Hmm," agrees Wolf. "Hollywood: Truth."

I look at Spud who is now soaking alongside us. "He jokin'?" I ask.

"Naw, well, truthfully, it's hard to tell. Wolf is generally no dummy, but sometimes I wonder."

Wolf grunts, "Hmph."

We soak for a while, swim for a while. Man it feels good, washin' yesterday and a thousand other cold, rain soaked outdoor days away.

"Mmmm, finest times," I say, then close my eyes and settle down to soak some more. Soon I wake up.

Still soakin' in the hot springs and stokin' up another pipe, Spud and Wolf have far away looks in their eyes

Wolf asks, "I'm sittin' here right in front of ya. I'm real right? Aren't I real?

"I'm sittin' here right?"

Wolf looks down at himself.

"Yeah, I am! I am absolutely certain that I exist."

His body flickers.

"Pretty much certain..."

"If you put your mind totally into it, there is nothing you cannot accomplish," says Spud.

I'm unconvinced. "People like to say that."

Wolf looks at us and asks, "What is real? Is what we experience real or is it a dream? Is here here? Or have we slipped into a different dimension? When we share the Hollywood stories, are we visualizing them or are we actually in them? Are we then or are we now?"

"Oh good gods, Wolf, not trans dimensional migration again. Next you'll be spouting time travel," says Spud.

"White Eyes!" Wolf says in mock disgust. "Wolf slip into past time now, before White Eyes ruin Injin peace and quiet."

Spud says to me quietly, "See? Complicated," and laughs.

We finally drag our wrinkled bodies out of the pool into the rapidly warming morning air. The snow is about all gone except in the deepest shadows.

"Last few warm days of fall, methinks," proclaims Sir Jacob.

"Best we enjoy 'em while we can," agrees Spud.

"Our booty awaits, let us reassemble at the teepee map table," says Sir Jacob.

"Map table?" I ask rhetorically. No one answers, so I guess that makes it retroactive rhetorical.

We dress and clomp down the trail into a second teepee, where there is indeed a tabletop set on folding saw horses.

"We store in root cellar for winter," says Coati. "Some things stay, less to move to new camp."

"When do you move?" I ask, the greenhorn of the bunch.

"Tomorrow. You help, earn yore beans," says Spud with an arm hugging my shoulders.

"Whole camp?"

Coati nods.

"Be glad of the extry horses. You may not have to walk."

Wolf and Sir Jacob are bent over the maps and papers, consulting in low voices. I pass around cups of joe.

Spud and I go to an unoccupied end of the table and they pass things they have examined to us. Coati floats around taking it all in.

After a few hours of inspection Coati grunts, "Hmph," and goes about making lunch.

"I'm glad to help," I offer.

"Coati think better while working, you read more."

After a while we sit down to buffalo backstrap, greens and sourdough biscuits.

Wolf intones, "Life is long and wonderful, it ebbs and flows, like perennials in a garden.

"Sometimes they are blooming, sometimes they are dormant, but they are always alive."

I shrug my shoulders and say, "Things change, unexpected things happen. Is that what you are saying?"

"Mm. The only constant in life is change," remarks Wolf.

"He's a well-read Injin," Spud says.

Coati looks at Wolf. "You have thoughts, my son?"

"Sir Jacob and I see too many Spirit Caves on map, take lifetime to ride to them all."

"It still looks like misdirection or code," Sir Jacob says. "Or a shitload of bloody Spirit Caves."

"How spiritual were the forefathers? Many tribes, many caves? But how all make one map? No, Sir Jacob, you are right. Something different is going on here," says Wolf.

"Maybe they are missile emplacements, disguised," says Sir Jacob.

Laughter all around, then sober expressions appear on our faces. Thoughts of the warlike centrists and their past atrocities can't help but send shivers down our spines. Please not here too, we must all be thinking. I surely am.

After lunch we look and read more, the afternoon passes by. We get out for a short midafternoon walk and inspection of the camp and grounds. So beautiful, helps clear our minds from all the words and drawings. And gives tired eyes a rest.

"It is indeed a case of too much information, not really informational, just a bunch of saved papers, with no rhyme or reason," I say as we return to the table. "My head is spinning."

"Yeah, but there are some things..." Spud speech tapers off as he reads a new treatise.

Wolf sits back, groans and moves over by the fire, throwing a log on the coals. As the sun lowers, the air is cooling the teepee.

"Okay, time for pipe, food, digest, take dream journey. Later." Wolf leaves.

"He's goin' Zen again," jokes Spud

"Wolf can't go Zen, Wolf is Zen," says Sir Jacob.

"True, native is Zen. Proud to be his brother," says Spud.

"What do we do?" I ask.

"Follow Wolf's lead. The mind needs time to ponder all we have seen and work it out."

"I got a couple of things to check," says Spud and rifles through a stack of papers. "One of us is bound to have found a trigger to get our minds wrapped around it. We think, we mull, we dream, we talk. By the time we move camp down the hill tomorrow, we are likely to have an idea. Hopefully, a good one. Let's go scarf up some grub. We still got the evening to look at all this again. In the morning, weather permitting, we pack up. Load the travois. When the mind is occupied with menial tasks, it works best."

We go to the other teepee. Coati is standing by the fire. Wolf is stirring something that smells delicious and flipping tortillas on the skillet.

"What's for dinner, brother?"

"Wolf stew. Coati shot a big one the other day, can't let it go to waste, homemade tortillas to dip," Wolf says.

"Mmmm, dog tacos, my favorite." Spud curls his lip in disgust and hugs Coati. "Hope there's lots a salsa to cover the dog taste."

Later I slide into sleep, mulling, wondering. I am standing on the edge of a cliff shouting across a canyon. Does the response come from the spirits or is it my own voice echoing back at me? It seems from my side of the canyon that the quest for unity with the spirits is the source of much of the worlds' unhappiness. All I have learned thus far in life is that there are no answers, only more questions. The more I learn the more there is to learn, vastly more.

### 29 Nomadic Migration

Before dawn we are up catching the camp chickens and guineas out of the trees. Wolf, Coati, and Spud shinny up them like they've been doing it all their lives, which they likely have. Suckers are quick, though some get away. Sir Jacob and I are on the ground with j-hooks to help catch and corral the escapees. They have poor night vision, so we do have an advantage. Coati has built a homemade cage to stick them in for the journey, which we will lash to a travois for the trip to the next camp. We move quick and mostly stay warm. Spud comes down and gets a big net on a long stick to help corral the wiliest. Then when daylight arrives, the last of them come into the cages for the seed Coati sprinkles out.

Another fabulous, but extremely frosty, morning eventually dawns. My fingers and toes are numb by the time we finish feeding. Sir Jacob has got a blaze going to warm us while we eat breakfast. The fresh deer sausage, fried taters, homemade biscuits and eggs prove that Sir Jacob is a true cowboy cook. They hit the spot. We and our charges are soon done eatin' and ready to pack up.

Wolf and Spud are striking teepees and Sir Jacob and I are throwing sawbucks on the pack animals. Coati is packing the last cases and full panniers and pairing them by weight for each steed. We work fast to keep the blood flowing, glad of our warm fur parkas, scarves and gloves.

After we fold the last teepee cover and strike the poles, we set the poles up as travois for the loads which are the bulky and odd shaped items not given to riding atop a horse or in the panniers. Chickens and guinea fowl being one of them. The camp guardian dog doesn't carry a load this trip, as we have enough horses for the job. His priority is to protect his fowl in any case.

The cats go atop their favorite horse's saddle in a little open basket with a branch jail cell arrangement over the top. Their favorite horse is the cat tame one who always carries them. Horses in general are not fans of any member of the cat family. Nor are cats much in the way of horsemen.

Coati says, "We tied Glacier to the sawbuck first few times we moved, but now she'll ride up top in the basket, happy as a clam. We had to add the crisscross branches for Gruesome this time though, it's his first ride. We don't want to lose our mousers."

Eventually we are ready to mount up and hit the trail. Our mounts have been standing in the shade so are still cold backed. They hump up at the touch of the cold blankets. I lead Spike in circles until his saddle blankets have warmed and his spine has flattened out. He is a confirmed cold blanket bucker. Leading him out is my old home remedy to forestall buckin'. Works for me. Everyone looks sideways at me, not having ever seen such a thing.

Spud throws his blanket and saddle on, reefs down on the cinches and hops aboard for a little morning fun.

"Ride 'em Cowboy!" I yell, getting in the swing of things. I have been careful to stay on the ground as buckin' is contagious. Sir Jacob's horse agrees, going for the big jump. Sir Jake rides her out. Just a taste of crow hoppin', nothin' serious. Spud's horse, on the other hand, bucks like a pro for quite a while.

As Spud picks himself up off the ground he says, "Ahh, I love a pitchin' horse in the mornin'. Better'n sex." He smiles at me.

"Sheeit!" I say.

The rest of us smart people, who some would call cowards, then mount our horses, after making them untrack and checking them for calmness.

As we turn the old pack string loose, we have another little cold back rodeo, and have to reset and readjust a few loads, but it is all in a mornings work. While we are doing this, Wolf's horse has been entertaining us.

Wolf says, as he also picks himself up off the ground, "Maybe Annie have good idea."

"Worked back home on Triassic, we rode dinosaurs there," I say, tongue in cheek.

The morning looks good, sunny and warm. However, marching soldiers are in the sky to remind us that real weather is just about to hit.

"Them clouds are a sure sign of a front; cold, snowy, windy too, maybe," says Coati.

"Yep, time of year for it," I agree.

We head up to the pass with our strings of novice pack horses, two to a rider, tailed up, Coati's sheep and their two guardian dogs, and the experienced pack horses who run loose. The camp dog is at Coati's mount's heels.

Two shepherds appear on horseback with a flock of sheep, a few pack goats carrying their gear and two more guardian dogs. They all join the caravan.

"Those herders don't have a lot of age on them," I say to Wolf, who is stirrup to stirrup beside me.

"Little brother and sister, Leaping Panther and Kit Fox. They in charge of flocks."

"I didn't see them at the meals."

"They carry food and camp on pack goats, stay out, follow grass. Dogs help. Coati resupply them."

We are in the lead with the loose pack stock following. The kids on their brightly painted horses are riding flank with Spud. Sir Jacob and Coati are behind the horses. They stop to let the livestock mingle in with the pack horses. They then ride drag. Their job is to be sure none of the animals get left behind. Their tail end position is usually perfect for folks who like to eat dust, but in this grass covered paradise there, amazingly, is none.

Sir Jacob rides up the side of the herd, looking at how packs are riding. Once we get things rolling well, we will stop and check cinches and loads on everyone again.

As he pulls up to me, he asks, "Any thoughts?"

I say, "I don't know if y'all noticed, but when you three arrived at the Short Branch the night of the fight, Soames had a sudden need to get the heck out of there. He even held his hat alongside his head, slowly putting it on as he passed the bar. My thought is that he didn't want someone at the bar to see him."

"I saw that too. Having now seen the Spirit Cave maps, I would think it to be Lone Wolf," says Sir Jacob. "With luck, we will know more when Michael checks in."

"He will not be able to find us, we may have to go to town for him," says Wolf.

"Hells bells, you think only Injins can follow sign? Michael's a country boy, he can track my horse through hell or high water. We've rode together a long time, he's found me more than once. Just a matter of when he gets the info we need from Soames."

"Mm, we see. It is said in some cultures that a shape shifter person is a shaman with great powers."

"Uh huh," more Injin mumbo jumbo, I think.

We ride along for a few hours, enjoying the sun and life in general. Chasing strays back into line and keeping one eye open whilst mostly loafing. Bitch turns out to be a good dog, got the instinct and mimics the experienced dogs.

Eventually we top a rise. I can see forever, almost. We are surrounded by the grassland prairie, dotted with buffalo. I look back at our little herd of sheep, pack goats and horses along with the travois horses, Coati in her Injin dress, Sir Jacob resplendently noble as always. Spud in buckskins. The herd dogs and the guardian dogs, the cats in their basket on the sawbuck.

Then I turn back to Wolf who has doffed his jacket and is in nothin' but leggins and paint. Damn, his sexy chest looks like it oughta be sportin' goose bumps from the chill. I get goose bumps just lookin' at it.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" asks Wolf.

"Nice paint job, Kemo Sabe. When do you find the time?" I say, red faced.

I look back toward the caravan to calm my beating heart before it rips right out of my chest.

Whew. Speechless I am, too many whirling thoughts, amazed.

Wolf looks around and says, "Spirit alive in time of buffalo. Injin rule all horizon. North. South. East. West. Sky. Ground. All."

"But always things change, unexpected things happen." Spud has ridden up beside us.

"Life is long and wonderful, ebb and flow, like tide, like life on the prairie."

"Sometimes sky hot and plants are growing and blooming, then sun sleep, cold come, perennials still alive, slowly working on their root system through cold times. Waiting for the sun to return their warmth again then they grow leaves, branches, flowers and seed. Continue cycle of life. Sometimes blooming, sometimes dormant, but always alive. Cycle goes, round and round. The same but never the same. Always evolving. Only constant in life is change," remarks Wolf.

Spud looks at me and says, "Like I said, he's a well-read savage."

Then he looks out across the prairie and waves an arm out toward the caravan. "The MadDog Clan at its finest."

"May the gods bless our passage," prays Wolf.

"Shit, the gods been dead a long damn time," I grumble.

"Mnh mnh," Wolf shakes his head, then smiles with a twinkle in his eye. He raises a fist, taps his chest and says, "Lone Wolf still alive."

### 30 Winter Quarters

As we come over the top of what Spud assures me is the last pass, and start down into a draw, we can see the ocean. It appears endless and deceptively smooth from this height.

"Whoo ta!" whoops Wolf.

"Ah hey ya," says Coati sounding like she is praying. She looks at me. "Thanking the gods for good weather and a safe journey."

"We ain't there yet," says Spud.

"My practical boy," Coati says.

We look down the trail, all strung out on the switchbacks with sheep and goats cutting across, and down the steep hillside, dogs and kids mixed in among them. Quite a sight. The older animals have made the trip before and are speeding up, knowing they are headed home. Soon Spike whinnies and a herd of horses comes loping around a bend far below us.

"Ah, the sights we see." Sir Jacob has joined us at the pass. He pulls a bottle from his saddle bags. "Cheers!" He pops the top and we all have a swig.

I look at Sir Jacob who is admiring the horses, too, with shining eyes. I recognize a kindred spirit,

"I worship horses," I say.

Jacob nods. "Oh yes, quite. Magnificent beasts."

"I fucking worship the ground a good horse walks on. Think about it. If man hadn't had horses, our whole history could be different, hell, maybe we would still be in caves. Before people figured it out, everything was carried on your back. Folks walked everywhere," I say, maybe a tad into my cups, but thinkin' brilliantly.

"I have heard people say that hunter gatherers spent two hours a day gathering and lolled around the rest of the time," says Sir Jacob.

"Have those numb nuts tried gathering?" I ask. "Are they fucking kidding me? Not only was enough food to get through the day hard to find, once you ate a few days food you had to find more. You couldn't just go back to your cave and open the fridge, pop open a beer and kick back. Naw, you had to move to a new area, 'cause you done ate all the food within walkin' distance of your cave yesterday. No one lived the easy life unless they lived on fucking Fantasyland 3000.

"Back in the real stone age cave days, no fuckin' way! Then some smart ass hunting sucker looked at the horse he was sneaking up on, planning on eating him for dinner and he thought, 'Hey, you know, maybe there's a more efficient way to do this.' Light bulb!

"Hell yea. Musta taken some trial and error. Probably tried a few other species too, but man, even getting an animal to carry yore backpack load would greatly increase yore ability to survive.

"That likely happened first, they found some old almost dead or wounded horse so weak they could get close and thought, 'If I can move this sucker to camp alive, I won't have to carry all these fucking loads of his dead meat.' So they gather around on the away from camp side of the beast and wave their arms, thinking of all the miles of walking back and forth they would save. Then of course they realize it ain't as easy as it seems 'cause the beast doesn't want to go where they do. So in all the runnin' around, Joe Cave Man gets a blister on his shoulder from his damn pack, and thinks, 'Hey I could tie this fucking pack on the beast's back. He could carry it home.'

"Eventually someone thinks, 'How about we put a rope around its neck and drag it. If eight of us pull on the rope, we can budge him.' Took some time, no doubt."

Wolf looks up and says, "Had to have started with dogs maybe? Smaller and easier to bribe with food. Eat same food we do. Tasted our trash, eventually hung around our camps for scraps. They packed things first. Hell yeah. Injins packed dogs 'fore white man brought horses over to Injin lands and lost 'em. Explains why the villages were full of the mangy beggin' suckers. Horse replaced them, they were unemployed and bored."

"But the horse, ah, the horse," I continue. "It was and is the perfect animal, the right size, tough feet, reasonable temperament, carries loads, carries us, pulls travois, wagons, walks in circles, runs mills, mine hoists, shit it's fucking perfect. The best will even be yore pardner." I reach down and pet Spike.

"But damn, they musta been wild, had to have been a lot of rodeos at first, figuring it out. Whoo fuckin' ta! Them cave dudes were the real deal. Cowboy on!!!"

I'd made one hell of a speech and proud of it. Wolf passes me the bottle.

"A toast to our best pal, and all his four hooves!" says I and pass it to Coati.

"Heavenly Horse!" Coati raises the bottle, takes a swig and hands it off to Sir Jacob.

Sir Jacob raises the bottle and says, "To the sunny slopes of long ago."

"Hell of a history, and now we got fuckin' space ships and the whole Cosmos. Shit, maybe if we never had the horse, life would have been better off. Ooooh ta!" adds Wolf then drinks.

"Naw, just not the infernal combustion engine. Horses fucking rule!" I am nothing if not stubborn.

Now Spud raises his weary head and gazes off into the distance, glassy eyed. "Heh heh heh, yeah, I spent a month there once. Oh yeah!"

I look over at him and bite. "There?"

"Fantasy fucking land 3000. Kicked ass! Cost me a year's pay, but fuck me. I loved it. All them hot ass cowgirls. Yee Fucking Haw!"

"You think the whorehouse in MadDog is somethin', brothers, you oughta try Fantasyland 3000. A whorehouse ain't nothin'. Fantasy's a fucking whore fucking planet! Good gawd, took me six months to recuperate."

We all kick up our trusty steeds and head on down to join the herd.

It has been one hell of a journey and Spud's bed is soft and companion filled.

### 31 Knock, knock

'Knock, knock.'

"Shit, arggghhh, we're sleepin'."

'Knock, knock.'

"Groan." Spud reaches across me. "What?"

"Someone at the door."

He puts on pants.

I open my eyes. "Say it ain't mornin'."

'Knock, knock, knock.' More insistent.

Spud staggers up, stumbles over his boots. "Fuck."

Sits down to put them on.

"Son of a bitch."

Stands up, wavers.

Regains his balance.

"Somebody better be dead!"

Lurches toward the stairs.

'Knock, knock.'

"Cocksucker, I'm coming!!!

"Motherfucker." Then crashing.

'Knock, knock.'

"I said, somebody better be dead."

I can hear him fumbling. "Shit, it's locked.

"Hold on!" he yells at the door.

"Annie, bring the frickin' key.

"Please."

I tumble out of bed head first and find the key where it fell out of his pants.

"Coming!" Then he yells, "It's the Sabbath, you should be in church, I should be sleepin' in. Whoever the fuck you are."

"It's me. Sky."

I get downstairs, hand the bleary eyed Spud the key.

He unlocks and opens the door. "Sky, it's the middle of the fucking night."

"It's almost dawn Spud. Charley sent me, she says it's urgent. She said to bring the crew, be prepared, act like you're coming in on other business, not to meet her. Meet by tonight before nine, Soames has plans for tomorrow, so the sooner the better.

"Charley said to tell you personally, Annie, 'it is urgent that you don't forget Bob.'"

"Oh, okay," I say, dumbfounded.

Spud looks at me. "Who's Bob?"

I look at him. "Aargh, coffee, we need coffee."

"I'll get the pot on, then go feed. You go wake the troops. Bob, too. Whoever the fuck he is."

I go out on the porch and ring the big bell.

"Come in, Sky, we're usually up by now, long day yesterday. Sorry, you musta rode all night yoreself," I say.

"Naw, I flew in. Under the radar. Puddle jumper. Not to worry. Wasn't seen. Could use some coffee though."

Spud heads over to the counter. "Oh. Someone already made it."

He pours three cups and hands Sky and I each one.

Sky takes his and yawns. "Tired."

"Yep, no rest for the weary," I say.

"No rest for the wicked either," Spud says.

Sir Jake steps into the room and says, "Actually, there is rest for neither the wicked nor the weary. Nor many of the rest of folks either." He steps over and pours himself a cup.

After a sip he says, "Top o' the mornin', Sky, thought I heard you glide in." They clink cups.

Spud looks at Sky. "What else you know?"

"Nothin' actually, I've told you all she told me. Charley knocked me up early and said maybe I knew where you lived, she was gonna send a letter through Cayuse. I said since the moon was full, I was faster. My hopper was a ways out of town, behind that big hill, so no one is likely to have seen, even if they were still awake."

"'Preciate it, hours ahead of the Cayuse, gives us time to catch some fresh horses. We just brung in the sheep yesterday, got in by the moonlight ourselves."

"And we must clean and reload our weapons," adds Sir Jacob.

Wolf and Coati come in with steaming pots of food. "Break. Fast," she says, in two words.

Sky gives them each a hug and says, "Perfect timing, I'm starved."

Spud stares. "You already stirrin'?"

"Me not weak from spilling seed," says Wolf.

"You fed too?"

"Kids feeding, no worry, little slaves back. I remember when you two were my little slaves. Sky too sometimes." Coati smiles at the memory. "Mother home now. Keep you out of trouble."

"Phew, Sky. You come and saved us just in time. We was about to get mothered to death." Spud laughs and hugs Coati.

Another fine morning over breakfast at Spud's. I could get used to this.

Wolf and Coati have made chicken and taters for breakfast, along with the usual rashers and eggs.

"Two kinds of meat for breakfast sure fills the void after a long ride," says Spud.

"I don't understand why they say dinosaurs went extinct," I say as I pick up a chicken breast.

Spud says, "All this shit going on, the interlopers, the weather shuttin' down early so we had to get the sheep camp moved. All them extry days, them cattle have about et theirselves out of house and home. My buyer, Ginger, wanted them yesterday so he will come to us. We just gotta run 'em down to the stock pens outside MadDog. We should be in town in plenty of time to meet with Charley."

After vittles, Spud and I go up to his bedroom for a' extra quickie, then as we get dressed I pick up my vet wraps. As I start to tightly wrap my chest, I explain to the quizzical Spud. "I was accused of murder three times, twice falsely. That's where Bob came in. He was my ticket off of Mauka and Makai."

I have rendered my breasts, which ain't much to brag about in any case, just about nonexistent. Since I ain't over endowed on the top side, and tall as I am, I can easily pass for a man. Height hurts in the finding of a husband or a date part of life, but it is a hell of a help in keeping a low profile get out of jail free kind of way.

I wrap my hair up atop my head, swipe some charcoal for five o'clock shadow, pull my hat down low and voila, Bob's your uncle or some such.

I look at Spud. "Just don't call me Annie."

Spud gives me a shit eatin' grin and says, "Yo, Bob."

We head out to the corral. Spud says, "Boys, meet Bob our new ranch hand."

Sir Jacob comes over looking puzzled. "New?"

He eyes me.

I stick out a paw and say, "Pleasure, sir."

"Bob, is it?"

"Charley said I should come into town incognito. Only Michael knows Bob, he must have talked to her. Something going down, must have a reason."

"I say. Robert, I have a few accoutrements which will render thee less feminine. Please accompany me to my parlor," says Sir Jacob as he raises an elbow to escort me.

"Time's a wastin', boys."

"Beg pardon, Spud, we are off to the loo, important business to attend to. After, we shall join you."

Sir Jake and I head for the mirror. Sir Jake opens a leather case, fumbles a bit and says, "Close your eyes."

Spud has joined us and is giggling.

"Ain't masculine to giggle, girls," I grouse, eyes tight shut.

They stick something to my lip.

"Are you kidding?"

"No wigglin'!" says Spud. "No peekin' either."

Sir Jacob adjusts something. Then he says, "Righto. Now you may look."

"Holy chicharones. I always wanted a handlebar mustache! Very cool!"

"You'd a' made a handsome man. Not sure I wanna kiss you now though," says Spud. Then he proceeds to kiss me. "Well, hell. Maybe I am queer."

"I'd say so," I, ah, say.

"We all indubitably agree that you are a queer one, pardner, albeit, I think, not a homosexual," says Sir Jacob.

"Okay, we better get a move on. No kissin' me in public Bob," says Spud. "I wouldn't want all the girls on the Rock to go into mourning."

"Hey, you kissed me."

Spud smiles that shit eatin' grin again, gotta love him.

"Okay, Sir Spud, we shall expedite the saddling. After you my dear friend, Robert."

We head out to catch and saddle our mounts,

Wolf rides in just as I am about to mount, reaches down and slaps me on the ass as he goes by.

"Didn't know you swung that way Wolf," says Spud.

"Injin not fool. Annie still have lady ass."

"I was hoping the baggy vest would help hide my fat ass."

"Nope," deadpans Wolf.

"Shit, yore supposed to say it's shapely, not fat."

Silence. Wolf still deadpan.

Oh well. "Bob is the name, Wolf. Don't forget."

"Yes siree Bob." Wolf salutes insolently and lopes off.

### 32 Ginger

When we get to the downwind side of the MadDog stock pens that evening the smell ignites memories of my stockyard job on Terrania. It was a good place to get a bunch of pen sorting experience and make a few bucks to climb the starway to a better planet.

As we close in, we see that the aptly named redhead, Ginger and crew are waiting and my handlebar 'stache is perfect.

"I believe I'm the best lookin' cowhand in the whole shaggy bunch," I say.

"What?" asks Lone Wolf, incredulously.

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Yep. Only second best."

"Why?"

"Lone Wolf here."

"Sheeeit."

Spud and Ginger count the cattle as Wolf, Sir Jacob and I work with Ginger's three cowhands to keep them together and push them single file into the pens. We all dismount and Ginger gets out his money. A laser dot appears on his forehead as he steps over to hand Spud the money.

"Shit!" Spud sees it, knocks Ginger and me both over as he dives to the ground. I look up carefully and see the cowhand behind Ginger collapse like a rag doll.

Then we hear the shot.

Shooting starts in earnest. We have all hit the dirt but Wolf, who I see crab off behind the horses into the brush and disappear out of sight.

I dive over behind a rock and say, "Shit! Why are they shootin' at us?"

"It's likely the Centrists," says Sir Jacob, hopping off his horse and laying him over. His sorrel horse, Stew, will provide cover and be a smaller target himself layin' down.

"Okay, but my question is, why are they shootin' at _us_?"

Spud looks over at me from behind his rock and says, "It's a sign we must be doin' something right."

"Oh fuck yeah!" says Sir Jacob, laying on his back and reloading.

"I don't understand."

"If we're pissing them off, it is. Can't be helped. They only aren't pissed off if we toe their line. We do what we believe in, we draw hot lead, simple."

"Aha."

I turn and see the Wolf's feathered hat through the brush. I am about to shout a warning when a bullet rips through it.

"Fuck," I whisper. "Wolf's hit!"

Spud whispers, "Shh, play dead."

A minute or two passes.

"Drop 'em!" Wolf's voice.

We hear the sound of the shooters dropping their weapons.

Spud looks at me and says, "Just his hat."

The buyer's not dead, but his entire crew is, so the deal goes through.

"It don't make us outlaws in my book. We are just defending what is ours. 'Course, Federals may disagree," Spud says.

"May? Bloody hell, you are still inhabiting Fantasyland," says Sir Jacob.

Spud looks over at Ginger and says, "Got lucky, Ginger. We'll help you load."

"We all have our days," says Ginger. He gestures at his dead cowboys. "Wasn't theirs."

Ginger and Spud shake on the deal.

Wolf brings the shooters over, hands tied behind their backs. He has retrieved his hat. He has a finger stuck through yet another hole.

I walk over and take a look. "Through and through, glad yore head weren't in it."

"Spirits watch over us today," Wolf says solemnly.

"You know them?" he asks Ginger.

"No, never seen them before."

Wolf trusses up the two shooters, mounts up and leads off with them tied by a long rope to the saddle horn.

"What's the Injin gonna do with them?"

"My brother will take them to the pokey. Prisoners build roads and bridges hereabouts unless they confess. Keep them out of trouble while we figure out what they are up to. They break the rules bad enough, we export them off planet."

"Yore brother? Oh, sorry, no offense, he's just awful tan."

"Yeah, Ginger, 'cause he is a' Injin."

"Oh, sorry."

"It's okay, he knows he's a' Injin. I imagine the feathers mighta gave it away for you."

Ginger's skin is as red as his hair by now. He says, "Ahem, I'll just get these cattle lined out."

"It's okay Ginger, Bob and I will help. Which way is yore ship?"

After we get the cattle loaded I ask, "None of my business, but I never saw a bill of sale?"

"Nope, handshake is best. Don't want anyone to be able to trace Ginger's cattle back to us."

"But they're branded."

"Not with any brand registered to me. Brands around here are a matter of local knowledge. None of Central's business."

"So, they will be beeflegged?"

"Didn't ask. Belong to Ginger now. Not my business."

"Loose lips?"

"Sink their owners. Fortunately, it's a big Galaxy."

As we ride into town, Wolf catches up with us having dispensed with his prisoners somehow. Might be better not to ask, I think.

I say to Lone, "You know how it is when you've been out killing and you come into a party and everyone else just finished a day of pushing papers across a desk?"

"Your experience is so different, it's hard to fit in, eh?"

"Naw, I just feel way superior to those worker ants. I'm the frickin' Queen."

"Off with their heads," says Wolf. "Queen is right, Bob."

"Oh, yeah, Bob, I plumb forgot." We laugh as we ride around the last big boulder into town. "Shit!"

Whole squad of federales have set up a roadblock on Main Street. We ride up quietly.

"State your business."

"Just come in fer supplies, your Honor," says Spud. He doffs his hat.

"Officer."

"Yes sir, Officer, your Honor."

"You know anything about a shooting earlier?"

"Whereabouts? What happened?"

"Where have you been?"

"We just come from my ranch, like I said, need supplies. The boys," he gestures at us, "are thirsty."

They look us each over carefully; I realize that Lone Wolf Hole in Hat isn't with us. He just was, we were talking about ants. Them Injins truly are smart, slick and silent.

The troops eyeball us all for a bit, apparently waiting for us to melt under their superior gaze. Then they pose a few more pointless questions.

Sir Jacob finally offers, "Beg pardon, gentleman. While we are happy to answer whatever queries you may have, we are but local ranchers. We just want to live out in the country, mind our own p's and q's, pints and quarts as it were, and not be bothered. It has been quite successful until now. What do you wish that we do?"

The little guy with the most spaghetti on his hat puffs hisself up at this. He walks over to Sir Jacob, looks him up and down with obvious contempt and says, "Papers. We will need them from everyone, now!"

"Of course, at your service, Captain," says Sir Jacob. He bows, stuffs a hand in his pocket and hands over his passcard.

The Captain looks it over with a scowl, then his expression changes. "My apologies, your Lordship," and hands it back.

"These are my minions," says Sir Jacob. He sweeps an arm to encompass us all.

"Of course, your Lordship, you and your party may go."

Amazingly, we are released forthwith and without a body cavity search. A good thing, too. Bob is without papers, how would we explain that?

We head on around the next turn and there sits Wolf. Looking as usual smart, slick, silent and superior.

His eyes sparkle in the evening sun. "Why you go through roadblock, White Eyes?"

Spud takes the bait. "Distract those suckers, Injin, so you can sneak around."

"Likely saved yore skinny ass," I add, thinking how truly fine his skinny ass is.

"Least they didn't take our armaments."

As we ride the last few blocks to the saloon I see a kid playing with toy cars. I look around at my compañeros. "Any of you ever been to Gearhead?"

"Not I," says Sir Jacob. "What is it like?"

"Well, up on Gearhead they got them old timey unmotivated vehicles ain't got room for even one horse in 'em. Whole time I was there I couldn't figure out what the heck good they were."

"Hm."

"Shit, the motivated vehicles are gross enough, but at least you just set and watch the scenery. The old timey vehicles don't drive theirselves. You have to steer with both hands, push pedals with your feet, and watch forward, aft, port and starboard _constantly_ fer critters, other vehicles, walkers, trees, bushes, holes, hills. Crazy amount of work. It's downright exhaustin'. They are like magnetically drawn to trees. They hold two people and go so fast that when I had my turn I 'bout killed myself and Michael both.

"They can't fit down a trail either, too fat. Actually they do best with wide roads built especially for 'em, like eight feet wide. Won't just go cross country like a Green River cart. Then you still gotta pull off the road to let other vehicles pass. Crazy.

"At least a horse can watch and think and motivate theirselves. Although of occasion they do get devious. Are you guys laughin' at me?"

We arrive at the saloon, dismount and tie our steeds, and stomp straight in to slake our aforementioned thirst.

"Fix us up kind sir, your finest black label," says Sir Jacob, as he slides coins across the bar.

"Why the roadblock? What's this about a shooting?" Spud asks the bartender.

The barkeep sets up glasses, opens a dark bottle and says, "Some guy killed in the alley last night, big shootout. Soames says they were bushwhacked. He set up the roadblock. That Spanish Don friend of his got it."

"In the alley?" asks Spud.

"Yep, right outside the back door. Charley was tending bar, said she heard it all. Guess she went out and tried to save the Don."

I can feel the blood leaving my face. "Dead?" I ask, too shocked to remember to lower my voice.

"Robert is a gentle soul, no fan of gunplay," Sir Jacob says to cover for me, holding out his glass.

The bartender refills our glasses.

Sir Jacob raises his glass and says, "Bottoms up boys. A toast to life everlasting."

I raise my glass and throw it back. Jesus, Michael.

"Another. Leave the bottle," I say and toss coins on the bar.

"Corner table's open boys, let's set," says Spud. "Never easy to hear of a shooting. Life on the frontier provides too many reminders of our mortality."

We head back to the table and sit.

Sir Jacob raises his glass for another toast. "To death, may we not meet it soon."

I am having trouble controlling my tear ducts. A fourth shot is bound to help. Damn.

Before I can pour, Spud puts a hand over my glass and says, "Enough Bob, there are supplies to buy. Business to attend to. What with bushwhackers about, we must stay sharp. Bring the bottle. Time's a wastin'."

"But," I start.

"Now, son. Listen to your elders," says Sir Jacob.

Spud grabs my arm. "Now, Bob. You've had enough."

We head out into the alley.

"Don't mess up the tracks."

Lone, Spud and Sir Jacob look over the sign.

"Too damn many people have trampled though here. Let's go talk to Charley."

We head on out of the alley and down the block to Charley's house. Sir Jacob knocks a special pattern. "Charley, it's your knight in shining armor."

Charley opens the door, looks out, spots me, says, "Sorry, no barflies at my residence, go back to the bar and have a round on me."

"Wait," says Spud. "Bob is okay."

"You sure? I ain't," says Charley. She starts closing the door.

"You all wait out here," says Sir Jacob and turns back to the door. "Let me in for one quick smooch, love. Then I will leave too."

"Just you, here in the mudroom. I don't want no drunkards in my house," says Charley. "I see too many in the bar every fucking day."

"No problem, Charley, we'll leave," says Spud as he bows. "Meet you at the Short Branch, Jakey."

We start walking back. Spud says, "That's good actually."

"Good?"

"Yeah, she didn't recognize you. Sir Jacob will get the skinny."

We get back to the boardwalk and I sit down on the edge. All I can think of is my partner. I take another swig of the bottle. Spud holds his hand out and I hand it to him. He caps it and takes it over to his horse, shoves it into the saddlebags.

He comes back and says, "Just wait, we don't know what the play is. Give Sir Jake and Wolf a chance to investigate."

Sir Jacob appears around the corner just then. "Charley says she is sorry, she just didn't know you. She's real nervous about this whole thing. Wants us to go back. She would not tell me any more. Said she'll explain and feed us lunch."

He looks me in the eye and says, "Bob, she said to tell you to be patient, it's a virtue."

We troop back to Charley's. I wipe my cheeks, which are dripping with tears.

She lets us in, gives me a hug and says, "I'm sorry."

Oh crap, water works, I start bawling like a baby.

"Here, come back here, you'll feel better with some privacy."

"N'No, I..."

Spud throws an arm around my shoulders. "Come on darlin', he was a good man. It'll take a while. I'll go with you." He hugs me and we walk down the hall toward the back of the house. Charley opens a door and gestures us into a dark room.

### 33 Spaced Out

Charley lights a candle. There is a bed and a night stand.

A weak voice says, "Reports of my death are premature."

"Holy cow, yore alive!" I rush forward.

Charley puts an arm out and stops me. "Whoa there girl, he is fragile."

"Damn, boy," says Spud. "Guess we gotta take back the farewell toasts. Not that we could even admit we knew ya in public. 'Bob' here near spilt the beans."

I sit down gingerly on the bed and give Michael a buss on the cheek. We hold hands. "Yeah, never thought I cared about yore sorry ass, guess I do."

"Sorry if I worried you Annie. Thinkin' it's best if they believe I am dead."

"But how?"

Wolf steps in. "Ho, brother!"

He comes over and does a tricky Injin handclasp. "We wrote you off the books."

Michael says, "Good to be here seeing you all. As I was saying, Soames come over after the shot and saw the blood spurting out, said 'You're done'. He just turned and left. So much for true love. Guess he just wanted to pump me for local knowledge. Or just plain pump me.

"It was a pretty serious bleeder, femoral artery, fortunately Charley showed up with crazy glue, saved me. Never thought glue would stop an arterial pump like that. Woman's amazing. Glue is, too."

"And the trip with Soames?" asks Spud.

"Didn't go so well. Maybe he got a new boyfriend in my absence.

"We got to the line shack, found the body, he got quiet, worrying 'bout his treasure I imagine.

"Then he shot off lickety split to the root cellar. Soames ignored the bodies there too and rushed into the root cellar, told me to wait outside. When he come out, oooh, dogies, he was pissed. He ran around throwing things, searching bodies. Went back inside, threw some more stuff, cussed a blue streak for such a tight ass holier than thou motherfucker. No concern for his people being dead. I began to wonder if he was human or one of them gay automatons we hear about. Pretty much did turn out to be a motherfuckin' Centrist robot.

"Anyhow we ran off, hell, he didn't know what to do. We come back here fast, 'bout run his rented horse to death, out of shape stable nag. After we got here, he talked to someone, or just thought it over. I don't know, but something changed his tune, maybe just paranoid. He walked into the bar, real serious like, asked me to come out and see something. Old line, should have been suspicious. Especially when he led me out the back door into the alley.

"He had a helper, shot me as I came out the door, never saw who it was."

"How do you know they were working together?"

"Didn't shoot Soames. So it seemed that way."

Charley says, "Times up, the man's tired, too much talking," and ushers us out.

I stop in the doorway and turn back. "You rest now partner, we'll leave ya to sleep."

"One more thing," says Michael. "Saw his rifle, a .50 caliber."

"Aha," says Spud.

We head out.

"So, no constables, marshalls?" I ask.

"Nope, solved it," Wolf says.

"How?"

Wolf gestures toward his brother.

"Spud?"

"Yep."

I'm baffled. But Wolf says no more.

We leave Charley's and head back to the main street. Spud leads us down to the Sheriff's Office which is empty. As we walk in Spud swings around behind the desk, opens a drawer, gets out a badge, pins it on his shirt and says, "May I help you fine citizens?"

"You?"

Sir Jacob covers his smile with a hand, Wolf laughs outright.

"We are experiencing a shortage of officials." Spud leans back in the chair looking smug.

"But the sheriff arrested us last visit. What happened to him?"

"That were Deputy Dave. He ain't bad."

"Doesn't Center send law dogs?"

"Word gets around, new transfers usually defect to our side or leave once they hear the stories of their predecessor's ends. Nowadays word has been whispered back to the Proxima Pi Outpost, they never come at all. Defect onto a more hospitable planet. Hell, not many are suited to live in our god forsaken wilderness, thank the gods," says Spud.

"So now we elect from our own. Still, seems the last guy was playin' it loose and easy with the rules. Caught shootin' at our lady cowpuncher. He was the guy you shot dead the other day," says Wolf. "Spud has been appointed an interim official 'til we get a new election organized."

"Oh, great, I shot the sheriff," I say.

"Not to worry, Wolf witness, self-defense. Sheriff Spud believe Wolf."

"Still, yikes." I'm mulling it over. A fed. I have mental pictures of orange coveralls and leg irons. Breaking rocks on an asteroid. No men.

"Yep, Sheriff Spud. Got a ring to it. We figured out that if we elected our own sheriff and informed the regional Chief that he would be happy to leave us alone," says Wolf.

"Marshall Mullens to you, boy."

"I thought you was the Sheriff."

"I is, but Tindall painted my official sign wrong." he pulls a name placard out of a drawer, it says 'Marshall Mullens'.

"Nice promotion," says Wolf.

I look at Spud and ask, "Job involve a lot of paperwork?"

"Shore, Proxima Pi asks for reports. I told them I don't trust the mails, airwaves or underlings, but they are welcome to come pick it up in person." Spud jerks his head. "Maybe that roadblock is them. Searching for paperwork."

I smile. "Uh huh."

"'Yes sir' will suffice. And if yore nice, I'll show you my star."

"Lord have mercy." I laugh.

I look closer. "Badge says sheriff, not marshall."

"Careful. We arrest people for readin'."

Spud spins his chair around, takes off the badge, and says, "I'm undercover."

"Um, in civies?"

"No." Spud holds his arms wide and says, "I'm me," then he holds badge to chest. "Now I'm undercover."

"He is infiltrating the Centrists, or thinks he is," says Sir Jacob.

"I am the titular man in authority here."

"Here in MadDog?" I ask.

"Here on the Rock, I am the 'Big Kahuna', as they say on Hawaiia."

"Which explains why when people disappear, no one investigates."

"Indeed," agrees Sir Jacob. "While titularly Sheriff Spud or Marshall Mullens, I should say, is law enforcement, he chooses to not, in fact, enforce."

"But there is a higher authority who oversees his position?"

"Ah. yes, that would be myself; Sir Jacob Bridbury, Duke of Barkingham, Earl of Boyd, Heir to the Flemish fortune and to Quimby Castle at Bridbury, first cousin to His Royal Majesty King Arthur II, Counsel to the Duke of Beltingham, Brother to the Pontiff of Laxham, Friend to the Court of Palanca, descended from the Neanderthal. Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to The Planet Rock. No one else wanted to be. Your servant, Madam." He bows and sweeps an arm. "Very much at your service."

"I had to ask."

Sir Jacob says, "I, however, have never seen a need to investigate. Our eminent Sheriff, or Marshall as the sign says, is a fine, trustworthy and dedicated man. A credit to his planet."

"Ah, I see. I think."

"I believe that government can be a place where the people can get together and no one gets left behind. If I arrest people and jail them they come out and repeat their offenses. I leave folks be. If they have differences they settle them. It ain't perfect, but it costs nothing, and some of them what gets killed deserve it. Them that don't get killed, they get a second chance. Sometimes a third," says Spud.

Sir Jacob takes up the narrative, "Fourth chance or first, if the offense is capital, we give them a 24 hour head start or whatever is appropriate.

"In fact, what we have is a volunteer Sheriff. No taxes, thus no public monies. So crime control like volunteer fire control is voluntary. Similar to the miners committees of the Gold Rush Era on Old Earth, people get together and vote on laws, elect representatives to the Committee. The Council is commanded to keep the laws for the people. Should a crime need investigating or a criminal need caught, anyone can pick up the badge, raise a volunteer posse. Then they go out and do the job. Criminals are exiled to punitive planets. The most definitive solution is to publicize that if they leave this planet, we won't go after them. Easy peasy.

"Galaxies of space, outer space that is, for everyone. Let murderers move to the planet of murderers, their own people, so to speak.

"All else fails we place them on a ship ourselves, to a new colony, like they did on Earth in the good ole Hollywood days. Ship 'em off, give them a new start. They cease to be our problem. Maybe they are tough enough and raw enough to take a new world and all its inherent problems. Colonizing an empty planet is hard work. Persons who are busy staying alive haven't time to get in trouble.

"In fact, I believe troublemakers have the perfect temperament for danger. They thrive on it. New worlds full of giant predators and disastrous weather bring out the best in them. Why, some write back and thank us after. For them, hell beats prison.

"Frontier justice works best when folks are few and far between. We can only hope that this policy makes us an instrument of good."

"'Course if we cain't scare 'em away," adds Spud, "or drug and throw them on a ship headed off planet, and they manage to get word to Proxima Pi for help, we got to 'deal with' the Centrist guys who come to check on things. First law of survival."

Lone sets us back on course saying, "So, about that roadblock."

"Yeah and why are we gettin' shot at ever'where we go?" I ask, then think on it.

"I remember," I continue, a mite confused. "Michael told me he thought it was the sheriff who shot him."

"No, Spud's the sheriff. He can't have been the..." says Sir Jacob.

Spud grunts, "Hold on." he ponders a bit, scratching his head. Finally he looks at me and gets a wide eyed expression on his face, like a light bulb just turned on. Crap, he remembers.

"Hey, Bob, you said something early this morning that I just realized was maybe not just a smartass remark and might be important. How 'bout you tell us all, then we can decide if it has some relation to all the bullets that seem to just miss you."

I gulp and straighten my gun belt. "Which thing?"

"That thrice accused, twice falsely deal?"

"Oh, I said that out loud?" Oops.

"Yep."

I think back. Crap, I did. "Damn it."

"That's it."

"That was long ago and far away."

"I say, Miss Annie, the universe gets smaller every day. May be best if you unload, we are all friends here, none above a transgression if warranted."

"Yeah, but."

"Oh, shit."

Wolf raises a hand.

"Company." Sir Jacob, who is nearest the door, holds a finger to his lips then pulls his hat down over his eyes.

Spud pins on the Marshall's badge and sits up. Wolf grabs my arm and says, "Out the back."

He and I head through a doorway into the cells. We can hear someone opening the front door, so we move over against the wall, next to the cell door. Even in my Bob disguise, no sense takin' chances. And Wolf? Oh hell, all Injuns might look alike to Soames, bein' a city dude, but you never know. Wolf points at a spyhole behind us. I take advantage and spy.

As Soames steps into the sheriff's office, he looks around, spots the star on Spud's chest.

"Ah, Marshall may be you can assist me. I am..." Soames looks around at Sir Jacob.

"We were just finishing up here. Thank you, citizen," says Spud dismissively to Sir Jacob.

Sir Jacob mumbles something unintelligible and leaves.

"I am Superintendent Soames from Proxima Pi. I need to send a report of my activities to the nearest Centrist Outpost."

Spud says, "I can carry the message for you. I am headed to the Intergalactic Frontier Planet Law Enforcement Convention there at Proxima Pi tomorrow."

"Actually," Soames says, "if you have the room, could I ride along? Have you noticed, there does seem to be a bit of desperado activity hereabouts?"

"Oh?" asks Spud. "Anything the Marshall's Office can help with?"

"No. Thank you. I have things under control now. Just need a ride."

"We leave tomorrow an hour after first light. Dock A on the S.S. Shitkicker."

"Quite the name."

"Call me sentimental."

Soames looks confused. "Thank you, sir. See you in the morning."

After a few minutes I walk back in, appalled. "You let him walk out? That's the guy. As far as he knows, he killed Michael. Well, had him killed or at least abandoned him to die. Why the fuck didn't you arrest him? It was at the very least attempted homicide. He was an accomplice."

"He isn't the guy. His accomplice is the guy. We arrest him, he likely won't talk. We need to get them both, get one to testify against the other. Trust me, I'm the experienced lawman here," says Spud.

I am trembling with adrenaline. "Shit, fuck, okay, we also need to find out what the treasure is that they are searching for so vigorously." My blood is up. "Michael is my compadre, partner, hell, my brother, through thick and thin."

Sir Jacob, who has also returned, grips my shoulder.

"We understand your kinship, but we must remain calm Annie, er, Bob. We need at least one of them to spill their guts, at least figuratively, before we spill their actual guts."

"He leaves tomorrow, we're nowhere."

"We can't be nowhere, because to be, we have to be somewhere. Not possible to be nowhere," says Wolf as he grips my other shoulder in empathy. "Not worry, Spud smart for white man. Almost as smart as his brother, Wolf."

Sir Jacob, Wolf and I head toward the Short Branch.

I stop before we get to the door of the cantina and say, "You guys go ahead. I got a thing."

"I will reconnoiter," says Sir Jacob. He heads into the bar. Wolf stands just outside the door. Sir Jacob looks around and waves to Wolf. "Come in friend, I shall treat you to a finely aged libation, a tribute to the Spirits."

Wolf gives me an adios nod and heads in. I head to the Granite Grand Hotel. It has a ways to go to live up to its grandiose name but it does have a back stairway. The back door is easy to find, I head up the maids' route. Charley has done the spy work; Soames is staying in the only suite.

I go into his room to look for clues to unravel the code to the maps. "Crap. Motherfucker." I reach up and pull off the fake mustache, which is itchy and annoying as hell and stuff it in my shirt pocket. Pretty soon I take off my coat and vest too. Someone has stoked the heater stove way up into the stratosphere. Or maybe I am just nervous.

"Balls."

My search is interrupted by Soames' arrival. I hear his footsteps in the hall, so I grab my shed clothing and tiptoe for the window but, damn, some sucker is walking across the portico roof. I turn and slip into the closet. Shit. It is dark. I peek out between the hanging clothes.

Soames comes in and crosses to the window and whispers, "All clear, Brady. Come."

From the scraping and grunting sounds I'd say it's a tight squeeze. Sure enough, a dumpy potbellied fellow clambers in.

"We wanted him alive," says Soames.

"Ah, he didn't know nothing, better off without the greaser bastard," answers Brady.

"You dumbass. He likely had money hid somewhere. You think we don't need money?"

"Shit, he weren't nothin' but a con artist. I could smell it. Anyhow no matter, he's kilt."

"Yeah, great. The Super is out of our hair too, Jones was a pain in the ass. 'The book, the book, do it by the book.' Never get rich that way. They should promote me now."

"Yep, Jonny, you sure kilt him dead."

Soames nods. "Yes, good riddance, I say."

"Good news. I went to the sheriff's this afternoon and he is totally unaware, never batted an eye. Dumb bastard is giving me a ride to Pi tomorrow. I can find out anything he knows. Stupid bumpkin, he is."

"Yeah, this planet, buncha hicks in Hicksville."

"You lay low while I'm gone, Brady."

"Nobody saw us, we got away with it. Scot free. Relax Jonny."

"I mean it, stay in your crib, best if no one sees you."

"Sure, see on the turnaround, Soames."

"You keep your head down tonight, too. Stay out of trouble. I'll leave first, you go out the window in five."

Soames heads out the door.

"Superior asshole," mumbles Brady to his departing back. He sticks his head out the window to leave.

"Grrr."

"Hey, what's that? Crazy dog. What the fuck?"

He pulls his head back in and draws his gun as Bitch jumps in the window and grabs his wrist. His hand relaxes reflexively from the pressure and he drops the revolver.

Brady struggles and grabs for the cane leaning against the night stand. He hits Bitch hard across the ear with it. She staggers and loses her grip.

Brady pulls away, grunts and reaches for the gun with his left hand. "Bullet will fix you, mutt," he says.

"Wait." I step out of the closet.

He turns the gun on me. His eyes widen.

He growls, "The niece? I really don't need you, bitch."

"She's the Bitch."

"What? Hey, quit fuckin' with me." Brady gestures me back with the little pistol.

I raise my hands. "Don't shoot, I don't have a gun."

"That makes it easy, stand still," says Brady. "Soames will have a tie in here, stinking Centrist cunt think he's superior. Once you're trussed up we will both go visit the sheriff."

"Bastard."

He backs over to the side of the bed and fumbles into Soames' suitcase, keeping a weather eye on me.

I fidget.

"Hold still, damn it."

Not feeling what he needs in the suitcase, he glances down.

'Thwack.'

Brady clasps his ribcage and falls to the floor.

"Oh, forgot to mention, I did have a knife." I carefully nudge him with the toe of my boot. Nothing.

"'Never bring a knife to a gunfight? Idiots."

I grab Soames' cane and poke at Brady's eyeball, no reaction.

"Think we're good here," I say to Bitch.

Bitch and I head out the window. With luck, no one has seen us. I actually remember to retrieve and wipe my knife, too. Genius.

Revenge? Sweet.

### 34 Shinin' Times

Next morning, as Spud and I are dressing, Wolf walks in.

"Hey, I might've been in an embarrassing state."

"Wolf hoping so."

"What's up brother?" asks Spud, smiling.

"Trent find dead body in Soames' room last night."

"Trent?" I ask.

"Hotel clerk," offers Spud.

"Him hear noise. Go look."

"Soames?"

"No, other guy."

"I better investigate," says Spud.

"You can start here," I say.

They both look at me.

"I was there, in the closet. Soames admitted to killing Headless, Supervisor Jones was his name. I heard it all. The dead guy is named Brady. He shot Michael, said so himself."

"What, why?"

"That's all I got."

"I shouldn't ask more?"

"That's the important part. Solved two crimes. They do believe Michael is dead."

"Okay, should I ask how you got in the closet?"

"I went up to search his room for evidence, Soames came in through the door, then Brady came in the window, closet was my only choice."

"Soames killed Brady?" Spud asks.

"Near enough."

Spud looks quizzical. "Okay, I won't ask."

Wolf nods and adds, "Like Annie say, not important."

"Yep," Spud nods to himself. "I gotta hit the road, scheduled for takeoff. No time for more."

"Adios, darlin'." Spud embraces me, leans me over almost to the ground and delivers a giant smoocheroo. "Wolf will keep you happy."

Wolf looks at me with, well, a wolfish grin and a gleam in his eye.

"I feel like dinner," I say.

They look at each other and both guffaw.

"Seriously, I'm nervous."

"Not to worry darlin', Wolf is a pussy cat."

"Wolves and cats both eat people."

Spud grins more and waves as he heads for the Shitkicker. He has Soames and somehow also the roadblock crew to keep him company.

Spud and 'friends' rocket off to the proverbial stars; actually it's just a couple day hop to nearby Proxima Pi. Oh, yeah, proxima means nearby, in case yore Latin is rusty.

"We must be off," says Sir Jacob. "We've a meeting with Sir Steven."

I borrow Charley's boudoir to shed the mustache, unbind my tits and dress back up as myself. After the visit to the recently dead/resurrected Michael, some weapon cleaning and then way too much time in the dry goods store shopping for supplies, I develop a world class thirst.

"I am allergic to this shit. You boys finish yore shoppin', I'll go warm a bar stool."

"Girls! No staying power," says Sir Jacob. "I say Annie, I shall be a gentleman and accompany you. Come, Wolf, let us adjourn to talk and drink as men..."

"And women," I, being uppity, must add.

"...do," finishes Sir Jacob.

We head down the street and I go first into the saloon, brassy and bold, just like I am walking onto a starship.

A big man standing at other end of bar, yells drunkenly, "Hey! Ma bitch! Come ova' here, lemme pet yore soft, beautiful hair!"

I pull leather, he raises his hands slowly. "Wait, not..."

"Apologize, now!"

"I'se apologize, missy, this brother were talkin' 'bout the bitch."

"Enough!" I wiggle the barrel of my.45 at him.

"Um, Annie..." Wolf whispers.

"Busy here."

"That ain't a polite term for a lady, motherfucker."

"No Ma'am, but..."

"Annie," repeats Wolf.

"Still busy."

"Yes 'mm."

"But, nothing. Apologize!"

Wolf says, "But Mose is talking about..."

"No matter, Miss. I apologize. Don't shoot, just let me walk over. I'll shake her paw, too."

"Paw?"

"Annie!" Charley yells. "Put your gun down, Mose is talking to the Bitch."

"What?"

"The dog, Annie. She is standing behind you. Please relax now. Holster your weapon."

"Where did she come from?"

"She her own bitch, go whea she want." Mose, who is carrying a long scoped buffalo gun in one hand, walks over and kneels down to pet the dog. "I'se mighty sorry Bitch, she maybe don' know yore name. Here, you shake."

Bitch raises her paw, Mose shakes it and gives her a big hug.

I turn five shades of red. "Oh."

"Mose, all that bowing and scraping is just confusing Annie. She's a bit simple minded."

"Hey!"

"It's awright, lotta women scared of a big black buck like mysef."

"Annie, I'll thank you to refrain from shooting my close friends," Sir Jacobs adds his two cents worth. "This is Sir Steven Hawkins, as we call him. Steven, this is Annie Talks To Horses."

Sir Steven tips his hat and says, "Pleasure to make yore acquaintance, Miss Annie. I am Stevenson Moses Hawkins, the one and only black man on the Rock, but not the only African. You know we humans all started out in Africa, on that Planet they called Earth. In what they egotistically called America, ignoring all the other countries in the Americas. Slavery was their sin and Injins were their shame. Heard of it?"

"Dare say I have, seems to be a popular story on the Rock. Sorry about being so trigger happy."

"S'okay. I heard the women's liberation stories. I suppose y'all girls are people, too. Us men do kinda need you for the procreation stuff."

I start to bristle again.

Wolf, Jacob and Mose start laughing.

"That was priceless! Bitch," says Sir Jacob.

"Shit, you set me up? Bastards."

"Here darlin'," says Wolf. "Have a drink, you were cute as a bug."

"Not sure I like yore friends."

They all chuckle, yeesh.

Mose says, "Join me at my table back in the corner there, we can talk. I will buy you a drink, Annie, for the trouble I have caused. Pray you will believe that it was these two crazy bastards' idea. Hope you don't take offense, no bad med'cine intended. And you might's well call me Mose, everyone but Sir Jakey here does."

We head back with a bottle and glasses and settle around the table.

Mose raises a glass. "To shinin' times."

He looks at Wolf. "Speakin' of Med'cine, Wolf. I got news for y'all. I saw the Spirit Buffalo last week. That what you lookin' fer? It were somthin', brother, a fine sight to see. White as the fallen snow."

Wolf's eyes gleam.

I ask, "What is a Spirit Animal?"

Wolf explains, "Very rare white phase animal, seldom seen. They have much power."

"Well hell, Michael saw a white deer out by No Name Peak maybe three weeks back whilst hunting cows. Thought maybe he were hallucinatin'."

Wolf is excited. "Spirit Deer," he says reverently. "Bitch, buffalo, and deer." Wolf looks ecstatic.

"Do all species have white animals?"

"Very rare in wild. White only blend in in snow, rest of year easy target for predator, especially after dark. Smart animal like weasel, ptarmigan, arctic fox change color with season. Most animal not."

"Spirit bear, wolf, owl, eagle? So all are possible?"

"Mm." Wolf turns his head. "Mose, where you see Buff?"

"Out chere whea the Three Forks meet. One of a big bunch, hundreds. Travelin' south a course, in front of the weather."

"Wolf go. Annie help Wolf find white deer, Mose show Wolf white buffalo. We must leave soon, weather get worse now. Wolf go on Spirit Quest. Friends guide and help."

"You don't need me Wolf, you know that country betta than I. I got my supplies mostly bought fer trappin' season, so we can travel together to my Three Forks cabin, we'll have Spirit smoke and feast. You and Annie go south from there. Buff cut a wide swath. Yore Spirit will guide you."

Mose stands up. "Time's a wastin'. Wolf, you got good solid horses to trade me? I need another animal for the winter."

"Yes, bring two new ones today." as Mose and Wolf head out to horse trade, Wolf looks back and says, "Meet Charley's later, talk to Michael."

I look at Sir Jacob. "Just like that, a Spirit Quest?"

Sir Jacob explains, "Yes, winter waits for no man and the white animals are short lived. Time is of the essence. Once the snow sticks they will be harder to spot and of course travel will be impeded. With luck the weather will hold while you make a quick trip.

"Wolf knows whereof he speaks. White animals are rare in nature it is believed that this is because they stand out from the background in all but snow white areas, thus are more open to predation, as he opined. The scientific theory results from the fact that when animals are bred in captivity the numbers of white animals increase dramatically.

"He takes the Spirits seriously and amazingly has asked you to accompany him. It is an opportunity I have not known him to offer to any who are not of his family."

Wolf comes back to the table.

"But, why me?" I ask.

"True that Injin and Paleface came from same place before time," says Wolf. "Africa. But Injins better."

I laugh. "And?"

"Annie Injin, Wolf Injin, good medicine come if we go. Circle of life, Spirit Animals, white man not understand."

"Ay yi yi Wolf, yore givin' me a headache. Maybe I ain't Injin."

Wolf says, "Annie already have Injin name and white Spirit Bitch. What more could you need?"

"But you gave me the name."

"Spirits speak thru Wolf." He walks out. Inscrutable.

Sir Jacob and I head over to Charley's. She is staying home with Michael until he is stabilized. Wolf joins us there and grills Michael until Charley kicks us out.

"Michael needs rest."

Back in Charley's kitchen, I am still unconvinced.

"Wolf, I didn't see the white deer, Michael did. Why am I going?"

"Michael need rest, heal. Michael tell Annie where him see deer. Wolf charged with Annie safety by brother. Wolf not let you out of sight. We not know, maybe shooters aiming for you. Spud say, Wolf agree. Maybe Annie learn something. You ever go Spirit Quest?"

"Well, no. But I have things..."

"Okay, Wolf decide. Hands free or hogtied, Annie go, bring good luck with Spirits. Spirits speak."

"Why now, when winter is nigh? Why not in spring when the weather is warming?" I ask.

Wolf says solemnly, "Because now is now and later is illusion."

Sir Jacob and Charley laugh.

"Apologies Wolf, not a laughing matter, but Annie looks like she thinks she still has a choice," says Sir Jacob.

Charley looks at me and asks, "100 years from now when you are looking back at your life, don't you want to be able to say you had the guts to go on a Quest?" She pats my hand. "Don't worry, I'll take care of Michael. I have known Wolf all his life. He speaks for the Spirits and they have always proven well worth a listen, and Sir Jacob, I'll wager, will help Coati with the livestock should the weather close in."

Crack of dawn next morning Mose, Wolf and I set out with the pack string loaded with Mose's winter possibles and our camp. Bitch has moved up to a position right behind Spike and I. She looks as serious and committed to the Quest as Wolf.

Michael stays in MadDog to recuperate. He and Charley promise to stay alert, watching for the arrival of any more Centrist paper pushers.

Sky will act as liaison between them and us Spirit Seekers.

As I ride past a big bush Wolf rides out, grabs me and plants a big kiss on my lips.

"Wolf wait," I say as he plants another one. I push him away. "Spud is trusting you to take care of me."

"In fact Spud said for me to keep you happy. That I am doing."

"No. I'm sure he means just protect me and such."

"A brother keeps his woman well-bred and fed during his brother's absence. It is the way of our tribe."

"Has anyone told Spud?"

"Of course, he doesn't want you to get horny and wander. My job is to take care of that."

"Oh." I feel the blood in my cheeks.

Wolf says, "Injin ways are not white ways, you have much to learn, Annie Talks To Horses."

We ride along for hours up the trail through a deciduous forest rampant with fall color then we break out on top of a cliff overlooking another vast plain.

We pause to look at the wonder the Rock has spread out before us.

"The gods smile on us, Annie."

"But if you had a wife and Spud left town?" I am still chewing on the same bone.

"Yes, Little One, I would still bed you also. It is a brother's duty. Should Spud die, I would marry you, were you his wife. Or if I had a wife already, I would then have two wives and all the children to care for, proudly. No one would be left alone or hungry."

"Okay. Say I marry Spud and you are also married."

"Yes?"

"If I die, would your wife marry Spud?"

"Yes, as I say no one should be left alone or hungry."

"But what if I don't want to?"

"Not marry me? I am Lone Wolf? All ladies want me. And many men also."

"Seriously."

"No," he says and grins. "It is Annie choice."

"And?"

"And Spud choice if things are the other way around."

I ponder this a bit. "Children? Marriage? I ain't ready. Holy cow! I ain't ready to even think about..."

Wolf interrupts, "Annie Talks To Horses, you have wandered from my thought."

"Thought?"

"Open your eyes. We are here now. Relax. Be here now. Trust in the future, should tomorrow even come."

I think, but my mind is blank.

"Wait." I think back. "You mentioned my eyes."

"Open them. Look."

I look out at the valley. The prairie grasses and flowers have tall seed heads waving in the wind and the trees along the creek are cloaked in fall colors. The creek is rolling and tumbling along.

"Oh, my gods, yes," I say. "This world, this Rock."

"Yes," says Wolf, "all we can see, it is ours. The gods are smiling on us."

Cowgirls

Just Wanna

Have Fun

by

Barbara

Neville

Copyright © 2015 Barbara Neville

This book is a work of fiction. Any mention of real people, places or historic events is used fictitiously. Names, characters, events and places are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real people, places or events is coincidence.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book all or in part.

Published by

Barbara Neville

Rancho Dos Osos

185 El Camino Real

Nogales, AZ 856215

Cover Photo ©2015 by Barbara Neville

Author Photo @2015 by Nancy Neville Cordell

All rights reserved.

# Description

The action starts with a bang. Hot pursuit is next. Spud, who is off on his own, has a problem.

Will our intrepid heroes come to the rescue?  
There will be shots fired, whiskey thrown back, clothing removed, horses run and spirits visited. Annie, Wolf, Spud and Compadres have another grand but lead laden adventure.

This is book 2 of the Spirit Animal series.

Don't matter where you come from, by the time you finish this book, I believe yore liable to be talkin' like a cowhand and walkin' bowlegged.

***

Wickedly funny and unabashedly smartass, Annie will rock your world.

She has got a mouth on her. If the boys can say it by golly, so can she.

# Reviews

Reviews of _Cowgirls Just Wanna Have Fun_ (Spirit Animal #2):

"There oughta be a "very good" category of writing. 'cause that's where this one is. I thoroughly enjoyed this book and will buy the next one too. Y'all do the same."

"Smartass, fun and fast moving."

***

Reviews of _On the Rocks_ (Spirit Animal #1):

"A VERY ENJOYABLE READ!!! Captivating, mentally stimulating, & entertaining with a STRONG female character."

"Actually my favorite summer read! I can just picture this gal ridin', shootin', and livin' it up on the range with quite a cast of characters!! Fun, lighthearted and gritty . I was born too late ! But "On the Rocks" puts me there!"

"laugh out loud funny."

""On the Rocks" has an intriguing story line with some definite surprises you don't expect in a Western. The characters are interesting, I look forward to learning more about them."

"Interesting. Definitely not my usual book. I enjoyed it though."

"It's our fuckin' planet.

If you don't like it,

go find your own."

-Anonymous

# Acknowledgments

To my awesome editor:

Anonymous Accomplice.

You do a tough part. Thank you.

# Dedication

Dedicated to Family:

Yours

&

Mine.

Especially:

Tiger & Fox

# Cowboy dictionary

Some unconventional spelling is used in this book to impart an authentic cowboy feel to the narrative. The author rode with various cowhands, prospectors and other bush folk who spoke as Annie, Spud, Wolf, Mose, Sir Jacob and the other characters do. Wolf's Injin speak is his own.

Cowboys are fond of colorful and obscure language. It is a source of humor and a sign of their unique culture. Their stories are passed back and forth, repeated over and over during the long hours on the trail and around the campfire. Accents are accentuated, especially in front of dudes and tales get taller with the telling. Jokes and pranks are another form of entertainment, often pulled on unwitting comrades. All in good fun.

At the back of these two books is a guide to the more unusual vernacular terms:

# Remember

"Once you realize that the road is the goal

and that you are always on the road,

not to reach a goal,

but to enjoy its beauty and its wisdom,

life ceases to be a task and becomes natural and simple,

in itself an ecstasy."

-Nisargadatta Maharaj

# Introduction

I started out life as Roxanne Rockefeller, born on a cattle ranch on Triassic, one of the Dinosaur planets.

Many years and even more ornery broncs later, I got nicknamed Roxy Rocks. I was full of piss and vinegar, and always ready to ride. I got offered a roundup job on the Rock.

Before deciding on the job, I asked around. Folks warned me that the Rock was an empty green globe on the edge of the cosmos, as desolate, primitive and inhospitable as they come. But, being a curious type and also in an almighty hurry to get gone from a different planet, I took the job.

I have since found this dark warning to be an accurate assessment of the Rocks. Especially true for those of you that like their modern life in the city with crowds, cars and the questionable security said to be provided by a government. Hell, the Rock might just be a tad too wild for you folks.

However, if you are a down-home, wild, nature-in-the-raw lover, the planet Rock is, praise the gods, empty of luxuries or conveniences. Settlers here are unimpeded by taxes, laws and all them so-called finer things in life. Whatever sidearms and such you carry are all that enforce your personal safety.

My reincarnation as Annie Talks To Horses, a simple cowgirl riding the range and rounding up cow critters here on the planet Rock, has indeed provided a few unpleasant, but not quite deadly, bumps in the road.

After all, life is an adventure.

Overall though, it has been an awesome ride. I have arrived on the planet of my dreams, a truly extraordinary cowgirl playground.

And a paradise conveniently filled with sexy cowboys in tight jeans. I suppose that's why I like it. Maybe I have, unbeknownst to myself, actually died and gone to cowgirl heaven.

To find out more, turn the page...

# Foreword

Think about it. 300 people. That's it. Three hundred people on a whole planet.

Now, let's take Old Earth, a planet we all come from and have traded quite a few stories about over the centuries. Earth had billions of people. One planet, billions of us. Humankind. Okay, now go down the road, out of where you live, to a town with 300 folks or better yet a whole county with 300 folks.

Okay, the town of 300 you have picked out to look at has another, bigger town down the road. Which has more goods and things. So it ain't really a good comparison to an entire planet with only 300 souls.

Also, most of the folks on the Rock are out in the country growing food on their ranches and farms to eat. Meat and taters, even some veggies. Fruit, all the good stuff. The people in the town of MadDog, the only town bigger than a crossroads, are traders and business owners who provide what the farmers and ranchers can't. The town ain't got public utilities, whole planet don't. Too small and the place is full of rugged, self-reliant individuals. Drill yore own well, or get smart and live where you can pipe in gravity flow from a crick. Light a candle or put up some of them solar panels. Things like solar panels, they aren't made on the Rock, they have to be imported from another planet far, far away. Hence, the shopkeepers.

Only time Old Earth had 300 people was when humans first started. They had a few tree houses or some such thing, on the edge of a savanna. Part of a huge continent called Africa. Just like us Rockers, they was no more than a speck on the planet's ass.

They was like Rockers. But, they didn't have tools. Or fancy inventions and such. And most importantly, they didn't have man's best friend. The dog. Seriously? Okay, maybe, but I am talking here about the horse. Super fantastical transportation. Carries people or cargo. Goes all day long. Bigger than dogs and they got hooves. Tougher than dog feet.

Think on it a bit. A whole planet. 300 cowhands. Okay, a few are shopkeepers, saloon owners and whores, but more about them later.

Maybe a couple thousand horses. Also, cats and, yes. even dogs. Working cats and dogs. Livestock also. By the way of cows, goats, chickens, guineas, sheep and the like. Lots of wildlife everywhere. We got stills for whiskey, vodka and such. Explains the need for grains and taters. Grapes. Hops and barley. Now, that there is a party!

Come. Join us. As we explore the Rock.

# 1 All in a Day's Work

It is Indian summer. The sky is blue, with fluffy clouds floating whimsically in the high altitude breezes. The late green grass sprouts are emerging through the dead thatch of the fall frosts. The deer are browsing peacefully on the edge of the trees up ahead. The birds are singing of everlasting beauty or whatever it is birds tweet about. Musical in any case.

Then, things change.

'Bang.'

The sound is behind me and too close. I lean forward and squeeze with my knees and calves. Deuce jumps both forelegs ahead into a lope. I look over my shoulder. Riders. Two of them. Rifles aimed towards me.

"Son of a bitch," I say as I spur my mount, hoping he has a bit more speed for me. I look back again. They are catching up.

'Bang. Bang. Bang.'

"Run you lazy bastard, they're shootin'."

Teaching a horse to ignore the sound of gunfire so he don't spook and throw you off when you shoot yore personal piece is a good thing. But, when someone else is shooting, this might be the thanks you get. He thinks it's okay. Of course, short of true monsters, running in general goes against the grain for Deuce. He is known for his easygoing disposition. I twist around again to look back at the shooters.

"Who the hell are those guys?"

Deuce doesn't answer. He almost never does. His nonjudgmental libertarian nature leaves me the freedom to figure out my own life. It'd be nice if humans were more like horses.

Right now he is busy running his little horse heart out. Problem is, he is running out of wind.

I spot a brushy oak thicket up ahead, it is an opportunity to change my strategy.

Deuce and I run around the thicket to the right, putting us out of sight of our pursuers. I lay down tight against the saddle horn and move my rein hand a bit more to the right. Deuce turns in under some low branches which brush hard across my spine as we speed through. We then proceed to do some quick world-class zig zag work, avoiding brush, limbs and tree trunks as we whiz through the thicket. We work our way through the clump of oak, manzanita and granite boulders.

I pull my rein hand just a tad back toward my body, and relax my butt. Deuce slides in among a clump of taller oak trees and big granite rocks. This light mouthed horse not only has a great rein on him, he also has an awesome stop.

"Good job, son," I say quietly, as I pat his neck and bail off.

I drop the reins, cut a leafy branch with my pocket knife and run out to brush over his hoofprints. I grab some loose sand and leaves and sprinkle them over the brush marks. Then I walk on rocks, careful to leave no boot prints, back to my little bay horse. He is about 15 hands, a nice little horse, with an offset blaze and two white socks behind.

I pull his head around tight against his side and give a push. He is quick to take the cue and lay down flat for me. I lie down across his neck to be sure he doesn't change his mind.

"Just need to get your breathing slowed to something quieter than a steam engine before them riders get in close," I say in a quiet, calming voice. His nostrils are flared full circle from the workout. His chest is pumping in all the air it can. His legs stick straight out to the side, still tense from the run. His eyes are big and round. The whites are showing with excitement. I pat his neck and scratch around his ears.

True, my heart is pounding a tad bit, too. Ka-thump, ka-thump like.

"There now, easy boy, easy," I say to calm both me and him.

We have worked together long enough that he trusts my judgment. My calming words work their magic and he slowly relaxes. His breath slows, his eyes return to normal. His legs relax down onto the ground. Deuce quiets even more and lays still. You are supposed to walk a horse and cool him out after hard exercise. This once, though, staying hidden is first priority. We just lie there and wait.

As I hear hoofbeats approaching and getting louder, I put my hand across Deuce's nostrils hoping to forestall a nicker to the bad guy's horses. I realize too that I have been holding my breath and let it slowly out. We lie quietly for what seems like forever. Finally though, the sound of the shooters hoofbeats fades as they pass us by.

"Maybe we fooled 'em, partner," I say to Deuce. I wait another long five minutes. Then, sliding off his neck, I let Deuce up. I tie him to a tree, just to be sure he doesn't get antsy and decide to run out and join his equine brothers.

Climbing up into a cleft between the boulders, I doff my hat and set it atop a stick which poke up above the skyline. Nothing happens, so I pull it down and slowly poke my head up into the notch. I see a plume of dust that disappears out to the south in the distance and heave a sigh of relief.

I check my cinch and mount up. My cowpony and I continue our march, moving along just below the ridgetop. About an hour further on, Deuce stops suddenly and pricks up his ears. I hold my breath and listen as hard as I can.

Deuce is right. Voices. I can barely hear them. I slide off, tie Deuce to a tree and slowly stealth walk forward. As I come to the edge of the hill, I can hear them well enough to make out ta few words. I can't see anything for the trees.

"I tell you crystal...rock. I'm sure," says a male voice.

"No way, we...Terrania. No fucking way we could...galaxy... Can you be sure?" asks a female voice.

"That little horse, bay...sure...crystal?" he says.

"We got bigger fish to fry," says she. "Find the... rock...crystal. We gotta...two faced friend. Selfish fucker, sayin' he'd share...ditchin' us. How could...that? We was honest..."

The man says, "Mostly honest...hit the trail. He must be further ahead... Let's get moving...lose him..."

The voices sound familiar. I rack my memory cells. Did I hear them at the Short Branch? As their voices fade, I stick my head up for a peek. As they emerge from the trees, they are already too far away to identify.

"Drop it," hisses a voice right behind me.

Fuck. I turn my head to see who it is.

"Hold still, let loose that rifle and raise them hands," he says. "Now."

"Now look here," I start to say.

"I said now!" he hisses impatiently.

"My piece is a' antique, belonged to my grand pappy, I'm gonna lean over and set it carefully down. Okay?" I ask.

"Hurry up about it," he says. I slowly lean over and lovingly lay the rifle down.

I can hear the gunhand edging around me.

"You just back up now so I can see what yore looking at," he says.

I take a step back and manage to get my boot tangled on a bush. I fall down on my butt.

"Damn," I murmur, rubbing my ankle.

"Get up. Quit screwing around, Annie," he says. He is now standing in the spot where I had been.

I sneak a look at him under my hat brim. He is a little guy wearing a vest and pocket watch. His pants are slick city fabric, not made for the wear and tear of riding. His sleeves are puffy. He has garters around his biceps. His shoes aren't boots. He looks familiar. But I can't place him.

He looks over his shoulder down the hill, quickly turning back to me.

"You know me?" I ask.

"Shit. You don't recognize me?" he asks. He is edgy, looking quickly down again toward the voices, then back at me.

"No." I say. "They friends of yours?"

"Seriously? Man, what a stuck up bitch," he says shaking his head in disbelieve. "All the time I waited on you, all the free drinks. Nothing?"

"Oh, on Hawaiia? Maybe?" I ask.

"Are you shitting me? I flirted with you. Chatted you up. You smiled, and was polite, but you looked right through me. I oughta kill ya just fer that alone," he says.

"I am sorry. Um, what is yore name?"

"You know it. Billy, damn it, Billy Darby."

"Billy? Hm." I still draw a blank.

"Fuckin' A. From the Short Branch."

"Oh, um, are you the..."

"The bartender," he says, clearly disgruntled.

"Oh, yeah, yore the bartender," I say. "I'm purely sorry, I got a bad memory fer faces."

Billy is still glancing over his shoulder, down the hill.

"You got no problem remembering Spud."

"Well, yeah, he and I..."

"Shut it," Billy Darby says, then his voice turns whiny. "That bastard takes everything from me. I run for sheriff, name on the ballot, all legal like. Spud is writ in. Fucker won by a landslide. I see you first, chat you up. He gets you. You never pay me no mind. All smiles, no action. Fucking cock-teaser."

"Those your friends down there?" I ask again.

"They'll be gone in a minute," he says.

He glances back again.

"And Charley. She don't do no more than order me around. She never, ever puts out. And even without that, I deserve a damn pay raise. Hell, I been loyal. I work my ass off for Charley. I should own half that place. But, hey, I got it all worked out now. I heard that fancy pants Lord and that floozy Michael talking about them maps. I know you are all up to something. And that Injin. You're all in on it. Damn it, I want my cut, too."

He looks back. He is sweating and looking like he is tired of being a nobody loser. His trigger finger has started to twitch.

He waves his revolver toward the talkers down the hill, "Bartenders hear what everyone is up to. I know that those two will pay me plenty for what I know."

He glances down toward them again.

It occurs to me that he might be waiting for the riders to get far enough away so they don't hear the shot when he kills me. In an abundance of caution, I pull my arm back and let fly.

My boot shiv chunks right in between his ribs. Billy drops and lays jerking on the ground.

I rush over. "Billy. Billy. Hang on, Billy."

He jerks once more and is gone.

Do you know how hard it is to make a fatal throw with a damn boot shiv? Damn my throwing arm's killer instincts. Shit, I had questions.

Billy got no answers now.

"Damn it Billy, wasn't in the cards, sorry. You could've at least lived long enough to tell me yore horse's name. Poor sucker gotta learn a new one now."

I take his holster belt and gun. A few piasters in his pocket. Nothing else is worth saving. Damn little short people clothes. Hell with it, they are city duds anyway. Useless.

I look down the hill and see no sign of the riders.

I head over to Joe, grabbing his reins and the reins on Billy's bay. I hang Billy's gunbelt over the horn and strap it down with the saddle strings. We sneak quietly down the hill away from the talkers. Were they chasing Billy? Was he chasing them? Was it all a trap to catch me? Shit.

The horses and I move slowly. I am listening. Don't want to be surprised by any more jeezly cocksuckers today.

Three motherfuckers in one morning trying to harsh my buzz. Shit.

I goose Deuce up into a nice comfy trot. We are now running late for our meeting with Wolf and Mose. I'll have to hurry to make it to the spike camp at Rio Rojo.

"Rock's a big planet. Let's hope we never hear those two sharp shootin' assholes butt ugly voices again," I tell Deuce. He flicks an ear and nods his head in agreement.

# 2 Pass

A day and a half later Deuce, Billy's horse and I are near the meeting place. I decide to call Billy's horse Dutch. Good name.

I hear a noise and look back.

"Shit," I whisper.

Did I hear something? Is someone following me, again? I pull into some trees and wait until they pass. I wait a mite less than patiently. I chew on some pemmican and dried fruit to pass the time.

After I can no longer hear hoofbeats I head out again, threading my way through the trees toward the trail. As I duck under the last low branch something lands on my back. A hand covers my mouth and we both fall to the ground. We grapple for a bit, then I feel a blade at my throat.

"Hold still, stay quiet," a manly sounding voice says.

Still holding the knife, he pulls his piggin string and lashes my hands together.

"Okay," he says. "Let's stand up. Slowly."

I climb to my feet. He reaches up and stuffs a gag in my mouth. Then he ties a scarf around my face to hold it in.

He leads me by the hands over to my horse. He helps me back on and lashes my wrists to the saddlehorn. He takes the reins and leads Deuce and Dutch over to a tall black and white blanket appaloosa horse, which he mounts. He takes us on up the trail towards Rio Rojo.

As we ride along, I work my tongue around until it is sore from the exercise, but finally I get the damn rag out of my mouth.

"What the fuck?" I ask.

"Shut up, bitch," he says.

"Hey, I am just ridin' down the trail mindin' my own bees wax. Not botherin' nary a fly. Who the fuck do you think you are blindsidin' me?"

"I heared about you," he says. "You that lady been runnin' around spyin' on folks. Got some rock name. What is it?"

This is not good news. Oh shit. This might be bad. Real bad.

"Rock name? It ain't me. I am Annie Talks To Horses. No rock names. Who the hell are you?" I ask.

"Name's Tang," he says, looking me up and down. "If I am wrong, I will apologize. But, I ain't never wrong, so don't hold yer breath."

He is a fit looking guy, real dark skin, curly black hair, past shoulder length. Keeps it in dreadlocks. He is wearing a flashy gold shirt, real shiny. Brand new boots and jeans. He is also sporting a long, bright red scarf for a hatband. His belt is a turquoise scarf. His medium frame revolver, maybe a 9mm, is stuffed in a shoulder holster.

It is always the same. I laugh.

"What you laughing about?" he asks.

"Nothin'."

"Tell me or I'll gag you again.

"Short guy, tall horse. Always seems to be that way."

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?" he says. "I got the drop on you and you say that?"

"You asked."

He climbs down and redoes the gag.

After another hour of riding, we pull up over the last little rise into the Rio Rojo drainage. Soon, I can see Wolf and Mose' pack horses, unpacked and loose, grazing across the valley. The smoke from their fire rises above a copse of trees.

About twenty minutes later, as we head down the hill, a wild looking bare chested Injin steps out from behind a bush right in front of us, pistol pointing at Tang.

Tang has his pistol in hand already, too. Pointing at Wolf.

"Hey, you must be Wolf," he says, jumping to the ground and holstering his pistol. What? Who the fuck is this guy?

Wolf nods and shakes his hand. He looks stern, not friendly, but he also holsters his pistol.

Wolf is painted up and dressed in his Spirit Quest wardrobe. There are sacred symbols in his designs to guide us and help the spirits recognize our journey for the importance it has to our lives. Actually I am just guessing, when I asked Wolf about them once, he just grunted. In any case, he looks awesome.

"You Poon?" asks Wolf.

"No, man. It's Tang." he replies.

"What you got here?" Wolf asks, pointing his chin toward me.

"Caught me a criminal. This heah the gal they been lookin' fer. She and her pard, I think they the ones Pap havin' troubles with."

Wolf looks at me blandly, as if I am a stranger and not his Spirit Quest cuddle bunny.

I make some unintelligible sounds under the gag.

"We go to camp. Talk," says Wolf. He turns and walks off.

Tang remounts and leads us on into camp.

We ride around some trees and see a nice fire with bedrolls laid out nearby. All the panniers and tack are neatly arranged. No one is in sight.

Tang stops the horses and looks around. Then he dismounts, eying Wolf. Tang walks over and unties my hands from the horn, leaving them tied together and helps me down, too quickly. I hit the ground hard but I survive the fall and look at Wolf.

"Coffee?" Wolf asks Tang, ignoring me.

"Sho', been a long ride." says Tang.

"She want coffee?" Wolf asks, nodding toward me.

I nod vigorously.

"Maybe take gag off?" asks Wolf.

"Whea is he?" asks Tang, ignoring Wolf and looking around.

"Heah ah is," Mose steps out of the bushes. "What you doin' heah, boy?"

"Pap, I come to help," says Tang. "I heared on Pi that they was some going's on here. Some gang come over lookin' fer treasure. Hell, I caught the gal, right heah. We get the story from her."

"Boy, you ever think that they might be more than one gal on this planet? This gal is mah friend," says Mose. "You loose her or I cut a switch."

"I'm growed now Pap, you cain't be cuttin' no switch," says Tang.

"Now look heah, son, bettah a switch den a bullet," says Mose.

While Tang is distracted with Mose, Wolf walks over to me. He holds a finger to his lips and takes off the gag. He also unties my hands and walks with me out into the trees.

After we are out of earshot of the camp, he stops. We sit on a log with a fair view back toward camp and wait for Tang and Mose to talk it out. Wolf has us set up where we can see the two. I guess Wolf wants to watch in case Mose needs help. Mose and Tang certainly don't seem to be on very good terms.

After a while, Mose calls us to come in. We walk down, he is alone.

"Set heah," says Mose.

He looks at me and explains, "Tang, is mah son. Raised by his mama on Pi. She doan like me. She taught him the same. Relations atween us could be bettah."

"No shit," I say.

Mose smiles and says, "He caught you and brought you in expectin' a reward. Young and stupid, that's mah son."

"He will learn," says Wolf.

"Nah, been waitin' fer him to learn fer ages. Boy is 33 year old now. Guess he ain't so young no more, air he? Maybe he never learn. I sent him on his way."

"We watch tonight?" asks Wolf.

"Yessir, we do'" says Mose. "We watch extry careful, 'case dat boy come back."

Mose shakes his head sadly.

# 3 Huzzah

We are a hardy trio, with our pack string trailing out in a long line ahead of us. We are headed cross country. All is going well, the weather is warm and sunny. They leaves are dazzling us with their autumn colors. We are living our most awesome dreams.

"Wow, it's like I died and went to Heaven."

"You been dere?" asks Mose.

"No, but that planet gets great reviews."

"Yeah, I heered dat too. Never met no one dat's been dere."

"They say it's over in the Archenon Galaxy."

"I heered it's got harps and fairies."

"Hmm, maybe Michael knows about it, he's gay," I say.

"Not dat kinda fairy, da kind wit' wings and a wand," says Mose.

"Michael would look nice in wings and a wand. I can picture it," I say and smile at the mental image. Not a lot to do on a long day's ride but chat and daydream. And share lies, of course.

Mose is resplendent in a crusty old trapper way. He is wearing new buckskins to start the fall season. They are already getting greasy and worn. The fringes, the antler buttons, the newly beaded pouch on his shoulder and his white striped skunk fur hat all bespeak his love of ancient ways. His soft elk leather moccasin boots look perfect for walking the cricks and hollows.

"You make all your kit?" I ask.

"Yes'm, I did. Hooves to hat, only thangs I dint make was the horse and guns."

"The saddle also?"

"Oh yeah. It oak with pine bars. Ah cut the trees, axed, carved and dried, covered it wit' rawhide. Carved the leather. Steam bent the stirrups, too. Heck yeah. Lotsa fun. Beaded dis heah horn too and dese heah saddlebags. And dis fine hog sticker." He pulls a honkin' big knife with an elk antler handle out of its beaded and fringed sheath. "Yep, traded fer the steel blank, but ground and shaped her blade myse'f.

His entire self-made wardrobe is a testament to his choice of a primitive life on the Rock.

"Oh, hey. Damn loose packs," says Mose. He shakes his reins and trots up to fix a lopsided load on one of the packhorses, before it rolls under the gelding's belly. He dismounts and adjusts the balance of the load. Next, he tightens the cinch and redoes the diamond hitch.

We are riding across a wide grassy park with conifers around the edge and willow brush by the stream that runs down the middle. It is fall, so the grass and wildflowers have gone to seed and turned brown. The seed stalks stick up high above the leaves. Lots of nutritious biomass here. In fact, like I mentioned earlier, think paradise.

Oh, guess you might confuse that with the planet called Paradise. This paradise is on the Rock, a wilderness paradise. No cities at all. Just the one town. Pardon my braggin'.

"Huzzah!" hails a distant voice.

We look back to see a rider approaching at a ground covering lope. He is too far away to identify.

"Stew," says Wolf.

Okay. Too far away for me to identify.

He pulls Mose' looking glass, which he has borrowed for scouting, out of his possibles bag and looks at the magnified view. I look at a closer view.

Wolf is bare chested, as he is in most weather, and sleekly muscular. He has a nice straight nose, a strong chin, good cheekbones, awesome dimples and eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles. His hog sticker is in a belt scabbard. His rifle is a .243 lever action, just like mine. His .32-20 revolver is out of sight under his fringed deerskin loincloth. The loincloth shows off his personal equipment in great style. The yellow of the hide is a fine contrast to his bronze skin, which glistens in the sunlight. He has feathers entwined in long black hair, which flows loose around his shoulders. The thick locks reach almost to his elbows.

"Stew? For supper?" I ask.

Wolf smiles, chuckles and says, "Yep, eyes not need glass. Horse, Stew."

"Really?" I ask and squint at the dot. He does look like a sorrel. But damn! He is not too much more than a speck.

"Good eyes," I say.

"Great eyes," counters Wolf with a grin and hands me the looking glass.

"Smarty pants," I say.

After many minutes, Stew arrives with his owner, Sir Jacob in the saddle. He has auburn hair, clean cut features and an aristocratic nose. The man that is, not the horse. Handsome, one might say. He is a Brit lord of some sort, usually nattily dressed in fancy, frilly Brit duds. Today, however, he is sporting a cowboy theme. He has a wide brimmed tan hat with a feather hatband, a tan neck scarf, a piped royal blue shirt, russet shotgun chaps, fine black boots and awesome Californio style big rowel spurs. His .44-40 revolver is somewhere out of sight, my guess is in an SOB, a small of the back holster. He has a large bore rifle, a .45-70, in his saddle scabbard. Good buffalo gun.

"Ho, Sir Jacob, how is it you come?" asks Wolf.

"By horse," says Sir Jacob, then he chuckles. "I say Wolf, have you spotted your spirit animals?"

"None yet," Wolf replies.

"What about Coati and the kids? Aren't you helping them?" I ask.

"Not anymore. Coati said, 'Injin not need English White Eyes'. Said it with a straight face too," says his Lordship with a fond smile. "So, I went to town to visit friends. Sky found me there and showed me an envelope. We decided it must be for Wolf. It is a message. I have, in fact, brought word from Proxima Pi."

"Across space?" I ask. Not sure how that works. Maybe a spaceship brought it in? Oh, yeah, he said Sky. The spaceship pilot. I led a sheltered life on Triassic, just hicks, not in the space traveling class. Started traveling as an adult, first two flights didn't go so well. Almost died, both times. Been spooked about the whole space travel deal ever since.

Not a lot of traveling happens in and out of the Rock either. It is sparsely populated, 300 souls more or less. Many consider it an empty, impoverished, generally desolate planet. Suits me. Proxima Pi, on the other hand is a demon filled city. Yikes!

"Yes. It seems that our dear Spud has found a spot of trouble." Says Sir Jacob. "He might need help, hard to say. The message is cryptic."

"Cryptic?" I ask.

"Him mean short, Annie," says Wolf.

"I know what it means, I was tryin' to get him to reiterate."

"Mm," says Wolf.

"It also appears to be coded," says Sir Jacob.

At this point, I see that Mose has spotted his Lordship and circled back. He lopes up, skids to a stop, and hops off his horse.

"Greetin's, your Lordship! Y'awls a sight fer sore eyes," says Mose looking up at Sir Jacob and gripping his leg, "Been with these heathens for what seems like weeks. Ah could use some dignified company."

"Greetings, Sir Steven, a true pleasure to convene with a man of gravid thoughts and nobly acquired wisdom," says Sir Jacob, jumping down for a bear hug and numerous hearty pats on the back.

Wolf looks at me and says, "They mean old guys."

"Yeah, like we ain't full growed adults. Yeesh."

Mose, is always addressed as Sir Steven by Sir Jacob. The Sir Club, I guess it is. Mose squints over at me and says, "Okay, missy adult, how old you is?"

"Twenty-one."

Mose and Sir Jacob seem to find this funny.

"Quite." says Sir Jacob. "And Wolf is just an instant or two older."

"Childrens, they is," agrees Mose.

Will no one ever take us seriously as adults? I wonder why. I look over at Wolf thinking he will protest, but he has that mysterious Injin look goin' for him. Lord knows what he is thinking.

"How the heck old are you guys?" I ask, curious.

"Old as dem stars," says Mose, pointing theatrically at the sky with his buffalo rifle.

"You say so."

I ponder on that 'un too. They don't look that old. Just not young no more. Maybe fiftyish? Who can tell? Old folks all look pretty much alike to me.

Soon I forget what it is I was thinking. Other than what great muscles Wolf has, that is. I love a bare chested man. I am also still enjoying the loincloth deal he has going on today, covering those other important parts. Uh huh. Did I mention this earlier? Bears repeating.

Actually, I don't look too bad myself today. In honor of the Spirit Quest and also due to the fact that my old duds were down to the more holes than cloth point in life, I have new duds. I am resplendent in new blue jeans, underneath my angora goat chaps, and my piped shirt is bright red. I love snap shirts, they are easy to scramble out of in moments of intense passion.

I am also wearing a well broke in wide brimmed, dark brown hat. My red boots have a colorful swirly stitch. My silver spurs are Californio's similar to Sir Jacob's, but a different pattern and well work worn. Mine have jingle bobs, because I personally like spurs that jingle jangle jingle. Though, if I have to sneak around, I must remember to take them off. I am clumsy enough that I trip over my own spurs whist walking fairly often, anyway. So taking them off after I dismount is always prudent. The spurs also match my high port, long shank, copper roller bit. I prefer this bit because I ride with a light hand and have a responsive horse. My antler handled .45 Long Colt revolver rides low on my hip. I like the 8" barrel for its accuracy. The 12" would be better, but is just too unwieldy for a quick draw hip gun. My rifle, just like Wolf's, has a 20" barrel and shoots the .243, a great varmint shell. It does a very accurate job and covers the longer distances. It should be just fine for this trip.

While I am busy admiring myself and Wolf, Mose and Sir Jacob are gabbing.

"Isn't that right Annie?"

"Um...uh." I stutter.

"Yep, adult," says Mose. They all three laugh, while I turn red enough to just about match my shirt.

Mose and his Lordship remount their horses. We all shake up the reins and our horses start walking once again across the prairie. It is late in the day. The sky is too dark to signal Sky, so we head to the nearest water to make camp.

"'Bout that message from Spud?" I ask.

"Well, it is a bit confounding, you see. The envelope has no...a moment," says Sir Jacob as he looks down and reaches into his horn bag.

"Ah, here we are," he says, as he passes an envelope to Wolf. "As you can see there is only a drawing of a wolf on the envelope, nothing else."

"Aren't envelopes usually addressed with words and letters?" I ask.

Wolf looks at the drawing, nods, then carefully opens the flap and pulls out something. He unwraps it to reveal a thin slab of slate.

Wolf scrutinizes the rock, turning it over to look closely at both sides.

"Well?" I ask.

"Hmm," says Wolf.

Figures, Wolf is a secretive sucker.

He uncrumples the paper, It is wrapped around a rock.

He reads, "Here is a rock from Proxima Pi for your all planets collection. Love, Mack."

"Mack?" asks Sir Jacob.

"Brother Spud enigma sometimes," says Wolf. "Use code, in case message is seized by Centrists.

"What?" I ask leaning over to look more closely.

Wolf playfully moves the rock out of my reach. He smiles and says, "Maybe not lady cowgirl business."

"Oh, I thought Spud was my honey. In any case, he is our pardner so o' course I care about him." I say. "'Sides, Sir Jacob said code, don't sound okay to me."

"Mm-hm, okay, you read," says Wolf and passes it over.

There is a carving in the surface of the rock.

"What the hell?" I ask. "Who sends a fuckin' rock when they're in trouble?"

Oh, golly, did I say fuck?

That bothers some folks. Especially when a girl says it. We must remember that the words themselves are innocent, it is the context that makes them good or bad.

You may say that you don't cuss. I gotta pal who runs in a crowd that ain't allowed to cuss. So she says 'Crap!' instead of all the stronger words. Still a relief valve fer the civilized soul.

If you think you don't cuss, though, just rake through the debris in yore brain and see what mild mannered, but used when frustrated, words you got saved up. Dang, doggone it, yeesh. There's likely something hid down in there. Or maybe not.

If not? Well, then I was just funnin' ya.

Wolf smiles and says, "Injin."

"Injin?" I ask, "Spud? He's all blonde and blue eyed. You say Injin ways are not white ways Wolf, but Spud is white. Why would he have Injin ways? He's a cowboy's cowboy, not a' Injin cowboy."

"Annie make common mistake, judge from color of skin and hair. Spud is Wolf brother, him look white, but just as Injin as Wolf. Same blood in both brothers, difference outside not inside. Inside same," says Wolf. "Spud is Wolf brother. If Wolf Injin, Spud Injin too."

"Pale Injin," I say and think on it a minute.

Wolf waits patiently.

"You always call him White Eyes and Paleface," I say.

"Hmm. True, we play at cowboy and Injins, but we more alike than different. Brothers kid around a lot. Brothers, show love with jokes. Genetics funny. Throw curve. Make for many laughs."

"What about the other two kids, Leaping Panther and Kiwaku, er, Kit Fox? They are your brother and sister too, yes?"

"Uh huh, Panther have blue eyes, brown hair; Kiwaku have blue eyes, black hair. Everyone hit blue eye jackpot but Wolf. Wolf only true brown eye Injin, all rest bastards," Wolf says with a big grin, still scrutinizing the rock.

"Sheeit! Yore the racist," I say, laughing. "So, Mr. Injin, what does the carving mean?"

"Not good. Injin petroglyph. It say Painter in jail."

"Painter?"

"Leaping Panther, birth name. Painter is old mountain man name for panther. Mose start calling him Painter, him like. Leaping Panther also paint spirit symbols on horses, fine artist, so nickname Painter is a good fit. Double duty," explains Wolf.

"Double entendre?" asks Sir Jacob, then after pondering a bit adds, "No, maybe not."

"Ay yi yi, Painter is just like me, got a new Injin name. Sometimes I miss ole Roxy Rocks. 'Course there's a planet or two where I dasn't be called that." I flashback to my encounter with Mitch and that evil bitch on Terrania, which I have been trying to forget. A nightmare. I shudder at the thought.

Wolf looks at me quizzically, eyebrows raised.

"Long story."

Wolf shrugs and says, "Annie keep own counsel."

"Yep. Do we need to go help Spud get Painter out of jail? I mean Proxima Pi has the real deal, a city type jail, right?"

"Hmm. Wolf not sure if Spud want help. Must consult spirits."

I look around to his Lordship and ask, "Sir Jacob, what did Coati say?"

"I did not see her. I had gone into MadDog for supplies intending to head out to my fortress. Sky delivered the envelope from Spud to me there in town. He found it on the flight deck of his ship."

Sir Jacob shrugs his shoulders and adds, "He saw the drawing of the wolf on the envelope in which it arrived and so delivered it to me to pass on to you. Sky sends apologies that he only had time to fly Stew and I partway out. He had a job in the opposite direction. Stew carried me the last few miles." He shrugs. "Here I am."

"Okay, the drawin' of the wolf meant Wolf. If you sent somethin' to Spud would you draw a tater?" I ask.

"Mm-hm," says Wolf, with a straight face.

"Well, we'awl best git a camp set up heah. Once we get the fire up and runnin' and some victuals in the pan, I will peruse y'awls slab and tell y'awl what it says. I has the powah, y'awl obviously don't," says Mose, smiling. "Hey, mebbe I is the spirits, eh Wolf?"

Wolf looks at him, raises a skeptical eyebrow, and shakes his head no.

After a delicious meal of meat, taters, and pan biscuits, Sir Jacob get out Spud's petroglyph, graph?...whatever. He lays it on a flat rock.

Wolf picks it up and once again scrutinizes both sides.

Wolf says, "Envelope?"

Sir Jacob pulls the envelope from a pocket and hands it to Wolf.

We all look at the envelope in the light from the kerosene lamp.

"I see a wolf, that's all," I say.

"Steganography?" asks Mose.

"I believe so," says Sir Jacob. "On its face, there is the etching which is in itself a concealed message, or steganography as you say. Also, methinks there could be invisible content."

Wolf inspects the slate closely. "Spud drawing say Painter in jail. Spud in trouble too. Man drawn here hold cock in hand. Ah!"

Wolf walks over to the campfire and comes back with a glowing firebrand.

"Here," he says. "Spud and Wolf play at spies as kids. We crazy for invisible messages, keep secrets from little siblings. Evil elder brothers, we are.

"Spud loved writing message with piss."

We all wait more or less patiently for the envelope to warm enough for the, um, piss message to show. Finally, it starts to appear and stink to high heaven.

Wolf reads it to us, "I am about to be arrested, too. Hurry."

"Shit. There is," I say.

"Huh?" asks Wolf.

"A potato. Right there, warts and all, huh."

"We had best send a smoke signal. It is too dark now, first thing in the morning we shall ride up that hill and get the word out to Sky. I told him to watch for our smoke," says Sir Jacob.

Wolf says, "Painter not supposed to be on Proxima. Him and Kiwaku in charge of sheep. Supposed to be watching them full time. Painter go off reservation. Ugh, teenagers!"

# 4 Paradise

As you will remember from my earlier journal, the Rock is a planet on the ragged edge of the Cosmos. After the Troubles, Earthkind ended up spread clear to hell and gone. The Troubles was some sort of big old 'conflict', we ain't allowed to call it a war, that blew Old Earth itself to smithereens.

It pretty much set us back into the Stone Age. Well, us on the edge at least. Lotta places more central to the big government planets have all kind of fancy thingamajigs again. Yaquin, Chilt and Talu are today's superpower planets. They generally run things. It is, however, an uneasy truce with each planet jockeying for the prime position.

Me, though, I like stuff less complicated. The simple life of the Rock pleases me no end. Just ariding my horse and seeing the country. Damn good fer the soul.

Before Sir Jacob's arrival we had a couple of very pleasant days on the trail.

"Welcome back."

"Huh?" I shake the wool outa my head.

"Annie lost, not hear Wolf," says Wolf.

"Oh, sorry, daydreamin'," I reply as I reach down to pat my favorite buckskin gelding, Eldorado Joe, on the neck. We are riding across a wide prairie, threading our way between scattered bunches of buffalo.

"Wolf answering Annie question."

I ponder, um, then I have to ask, "What was my question?"

"Passcards. No matter, the answer is Injin's names change with time, mark new events, revelations," explains the sage, and sexy, Wolf.

"Oh, yeah. Passcards, it was. How's that work? If you don't have papers in this galaxy, big trouble. I'd bet money they won't let you change no names on passcards. How can you travel? Everyone is required to have their passcard ready at all times fer snap inspections, roadblocks and all."

"Fuck those guys. Wolf have passcard, not say Lone Wolf, but I ignore passcards. It is white man obsession. On the Rock, spirit rules, Injin names fluid."

"But Annie Talks To Horses, hell, I don't even look Injin."

"Mm. You say so, but Wolf see Injin."

"You tryin' to say there ain't no look? Hell, I'm always sayin' it my own self, we's all ever'thing. Sure, go back a couple old forefathers. Yeah, you maybe know they was this or that. Unless they was civilized, back then if yore granny had a sweetie on the side that knocked her up, she would never admit it. And back further? Humankind all started as one dark skinned tribe from that Africa place. But over time populations moved and changed as they split into new tribes. Eventually, people in different places Earth looked very different from those original black folks.

"Those who venture out, cross the mountains to the greener grass on the other side, they spread out, change, mutate, travel, remix...sexually. It's a big ole mixin' bowl, a stew pot," say I. "But, you think I look Injin? My ma had tan skin, dark eyes and hair. Pa was a true blue eyed, yeller haired, paleface devil. Both was long and tall like me."

"My parents different, too. Coati Injin, Pa paleface cowboy. But Injin is like appaloosa horse," Wolf continues. "Good for Injin to breed with other kind of human. Like appaloosa, who must breed with solid color horse sometimes, or spots disappear, mane and tail get thin. New blood keep breed strong and smart. appaloosa spots, original Injin blood, come back in the end. Powerful strong."

"True, hybrid vigor, they call it," I say. "So we all are mixed up, some look like this, some that. Me, you, we are what we feel. Only reason to even talk about looks, skin, eyes, tits, peckers is fer kicks. The things we share, whether looks, careers or hobbies, are what make us friends. The things that differ are what give friends comedy material. You go to them politely correct places, no humor, 'cause you ain't allowed to notice differences. Sucks."

"Mm-hm."

"I got that, or saw it on that one planet," I say. "Michael and I used to call it 'Deadpan'. Whole planet didn't get our jokes. Bit the big one. Eventually, they run us off at gunpoint. Last spaceship outta town. No sense of humor at all."

Wolf laughs and says, "Annie Kioway and Osage. Many others in woodpile, not matter."

"Yep, antepasados," I say, thinking about them great grannies and such that went before.

Wolf looks puzzled.

"Oh. Pardon my Spanglish. It means ancestors. You Injins call 'em forefathers. And foremothers, I reckon, also," I add, being a cowgirl feminist.

"Um-hm," says Wolf.

Mose who is just ahead of us looks back and smiles.

"Okay, I'll bite, what's so funny?" I ask.

"Y'all," he says. "Reinventin' the worlds. Cute as bunnies."

# 5 Pack Out

Billy's horse, Dutch, has turned out to be a pretty well behaved spare mount. When we get back to MadDog we will see if there is next of kin to deliver him to. Until then he's gotta pull his share.

We're hoping to reach Mose' camp, get a quick rideabout done, then return to warmer climes. Specifically, Wolf and his brother Spud's seaside hot springs heaven, the Bar None Ranch. We need to get back before the weather sets in hard. We don't have enough supplies to spend the winter snowed in out here. But first we are helping Mose get his winter gear out to his trap camp. Wolf and I have three packhorses carrying our camping gear. Mose has six horses loaded up with his possibles for the trapping season, everything from traps and a crosscut saw to beans and bacon. Mose decided this year that an ax wasn't enough. He is moving up big time, technology wise, to a one-man crosscut. I admire it as we ride along.

"Fine lookin' cuttin' tool," I say.

"Be a lot faster fer cutting rounds," he says. "Bought a maul and wedges for splittin', too."

"Skookum," I say.

We travel on down the trail, under the fall sun. I can feel the heat of it soaking through the cowboy shirt on my back.

"Mose," I turn around and ask, resting my hand on my horse's ample behind, "how you gonna feed all these hay burners if the snow settles in fer a long spell?"

"Yes'm, you right, hard to find enough feed fer hosses of a bad winter. In actual fact, they jest rented."

Wolf looks over at me and says, "Part of MadDog Clan service. We trail extra stock back with us, once Mose unload."

"Very kind of you."

"Mm-hm. Make money during Spirit Quest. Take horses home, rent again."

"Yowza, Wolf, y'awl one of our great financial minds," laughs Mose.

"Hmph. Black White Eyes not funny."

"Yeah, I know, 'twere yore ma's idee, huh?" asks Mose. He and I giggle.

"'T'were," Wolf admits with a smile. "Coati ranch boss. Wolf, simple savage. Follow orders."

Mose looks at Wolf and says, "Real know-how lies in knowin' how dumb you is. Wolf may be smarter than we thinks."

I laugh and scratch my head. All these Rockers seem to have complicated brains. Fortunately, me myself, just a plain ol' cowgirl.

We pull up near the crick under huge sycamore trees. We then dismount and start the evening routine. Horses are relieved of panniers, sawbucks and saddles. Just another beautiful camp in paradise.

I walk under the beautiful trees to take a leak. Have you ever looked at the bark on a sycamore? Like a jigsaw puzzle. All them colors. Maybe it's the joint that Wolf passed around earlier or maybe it is the effect of reduced sunlight as winter approaches. Anyhow, the sycamores seem extra colorful tonight. Camping can be fun and educational.

Meanwhile Mose and Wolf are over by the fire conversing. They have their heads together deep in a story, I'll bet. Mose is leaning over a pannier doing something. I walk over close enough to see that he has his hands in the flour sack. He adds a handful of cornmeal from a smaller sack, then the salt. He stirs up what he wants, then trickles in the water. He folds it in, right there in the flour bag, until the consistency is just right for bannock. He pulls the ball of dough out and spreads it in the hot skillet, wetting the back of the spoon if it starts to stick during the spreading. The remaining flour is dry and clean, all set for next time. He ties the bag shut and settles in to cooking.

I wander over to the crick, and hunker down to get a drink. Fine water, clean and pure as rain. I could wash my face, or more. Why the hell not?

After a quick cold bath, I run back over to the fire.

"How was yore bath?" asks Mose.

"Brrr," I say, holding my hands out and leaning toward the flames. "Couple'a buffalo pies are floatin' here and there, adds a nice scent.

"Cold water are good for the soul," says Mose nodding.

"You bathe lately?" I tease.

"Jes' last year, I believe," says Mose, with a smile. "Unless I disremember."

"You might," I say, theatrically holding my nose. "I smell sage brush fires."

"Them is sagebrush in the fire, gal."

"Ah."

I sit down on a saddle blanket by the fire, wiggling a bit in the loose sandy soil to get the ground scooped out to match the roundness of my finely shaped behind. Soon I will be dry enough to put my clothes on.

Mose pulls the bannock off the flames and the boys move over to a rock and start talking again.

"What are you two conversatin' about?" I ask.

Wolf nods at something in front of them, either ignoring or not hearing me. I walk over to look.

The fellas have what we hope is a Spirit Cave map. One of the things that we found in Soames antique paper and map cache at the root cellar. They have arranged lanterns on each side and are poring over it. I think of it as the zone map as the letters z-o-n are written large across the middle of it. What zone? It doesn't say.

"Spot here on map," says Wolf.

"Yeah, mos' likely," says Mose nodding.

They scrutinize the mountains and marks on the old map, conferring quietly. Finally, Wolf stands up and the two of them carefully, reverently roll the map together along with its newly added preservative backing sheet. Next they slide it into a tube with a waterproof gut cover.

"This heah map is old, way older even den me. We gots to be careful wit' it," Mose tells me.

"We get new copy made over the winter. Not bring original next trip," says Wolf. He carries the tube over to the possibles stack and carefully stows it in a pannier.

"Well boys," I ask, "any bright idees?"

"We be theah in two days," says Mose.

"Be where?"

"Out past edge. Mose camp," says Wolf. "Spirit buffalo not far beyond. If luck good, we find him by that mark on map."

Now don't judge me because I don't ask a lot of questions. I was raised in a world where we keep our own counsel. Folks has a right to the privacy of their own thoughts. If'n they wanna share, they will. That's how it worked in the Old West. Remember the Duke? Strong and silent. But this? I just have to ask.

"Past the edge? Why does man even feel the need to go out past the edge?" I ask. Not a phrase we used on my home world, Triassic.

"Because we crawl out the ocean and find a warm cave. We look o'er the hill and see fire. We decide being warm might be nice. We work hard, an' we experiment 'til we conquer them flames. We build boats. We cross a' ocean. We pioneer the north, the south, the east and the west. Then we take to the sky. The history of man is explorin' and what's next is all dem lands past the edge of the map and then them galaxies out deah past da edge o' known space," says Mose opening his arms to the sky.

"Spirits first. This planet, then other worlds," says Wolf, putting in his two cents worth.

"Now that there is one big mouthful o' thoughts," adds Mose, slightly embarrassed at himself.

"Good gawd, philosophizers," I say and shudder theatrically. "I'll shut up now."

See what I mean 'bout keepin' yore own counsel? Easier on the brain.

"Thet were exhaustin'," I say and smile. "Time fer this mixed up cowgirl to turn in. Nighty night."

"See y'awl mañany," says Mose and laughs.

Wolf looks over at me. He looks hungry. No, horny. Definitely horny.

# 6 Time for Pi

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 Quest 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

"Where's the pilothouse, Wolf?"

"Where Sky Pilot live," says Wolf.

"Seriously I just want to know how to get there.."

"Come. You never see?" Wolf leads off. We work our way up the ship's ladder to see Sky.

"Yo, Sky, nice pilothouse," I say as I hand him his sandwich and a beer.

"Thanks. I am hungry. Cockpit is the term we use," says Sky.

"Not pilothouse or bridge? Actually, I do like cockpit myself," I say. "But what if a gal is flyin'?"

Sky and Wolf chuckle as they review words for the female equivalent of cockpit in their heads.

"Yeah, cockpit is nice, bridge sounds bigger, maybe for a ship with a flight crew of a dozen specialists. Cockpit is right for this size sucker, not so big it needs a committee to run it." says Sky agreeably. "Hell, we're in space. I am the Captain. Anyone want to get hitched?"

Wolf raises his eyebrows at me and winks. I ignore the savage.

"And when I fly?" I ask. "Still a cockpit?"

"You know how to fly?" asks Sky, changing the subject.

"Hell yeah, long's there's no planets or nothin' nearby. Ain't learned steerin' so much yet, just a beginner," I say. "Hey, lunch is ready fer everyone else too, Sky. You got a way to call 'em all, announce it?"

Sky picks up a headset and says into the mike. "Food's on in the galley."

"Thanks, Captain," I say.

"Ah. Captain Pilot. I like it," I say as Wolf and I trot down the ship's ladder toward the galley.

As we walk into the dining area, we see that there are newcomers at the table. One is a very posh, bedazzled lady. Wolf goes over and gives her a big hug. Then they turn to me.

Sir Jacob says, "This, my dear Annie, is my revered mother, Lady Beverly Bridbury. Mama, this is Annie Talks To Horses, our new compadre."

"Oh, I say, I have heard mention of you. Yes, a great pleasure, Annie," says Lady Beverly. "Jacob, er, his Lordship, has spoken very well of you."

"No need for formalities, Mama, until we arrive on Pi,. We shall start the deception then."

Deception? The plot thickens.

"Ah, yes, very good," says Lady Beverly. "You have already met my young friend?"

Kiwaku looks up shyly and smiles.

Wolf looks at her sternly and asks, "Little sister, why was Painter not with you and the sheep?"

"He went to see his girl in town. The dogs and I can watch the sheep alone. He hardly saw her all summer. His loins were aching, brother."

"He is but a child," says Lady Beverly.

"Injin early starter, Lady Beverly. Wolf start early. Painter, thirteen? Um, how old?" asks Wolf. He looks quizzically at his sister.

"Fifteen, elder brother. I am thirteen. Painter is fully grown," says Kiwaku seriously, rolling her eyes.

"Pfft," says Wolf.

"Yeah, fifteen is no adult," I say.

"Neither is twenty-one," says Sir Jacob pointedly.

I roll my eyes, a lot like Kiwaku just did.

"Oh my, so young," says Lady Beverly, fanning herself with a beautifully painted paper fan.

"Shit, Painter go town, which day?" asks Wolf.

"It must have been the day they set up the roadblock outside of MadDog or early the next, because the roadblock crew and Soames left with Spud that morning," says Sir Jacob.

"Yes," says Kiwaku. "Before Spud left, Painter went into town to see her."

"And the day before we brought the winter camp in, Painter was with us," I add. "So, ya reckon the roadblock crew stopped him, arrested him? Then took him on Spud's ship? Must of been, wasn't it the last ship to leave the planet? But what fer? He has papers, right?"

"No papers. Shit, they need scapegoat," says Wolf.

"Sure, Wolf makes sense. They need someone to blame fer killin' Jones. That will take the heat off of themselves, the real killers. But a kid? That's low," says Michael.

"Well, only a kid in his brother's eyes. True, he is skinny still and looks young, but he has his height. So he don't look too young fer the part," I say. "Also, I heard Soames braggin' about killin' Jones. He wanted Jones job. Jonny sure ain't a one to turn hisself in."

"Yore right. They arrest people of any age for crimes," says Michael. "Just don't seem right."

"Damn. Little brother," says Wolf, looking upset.

"Not to worry, we will go out and reconnoiter. We shall investigate the circumstances and formulate a plan to get our boy back," says Sir Jacob. "Positive thinking, planning, execution. Oh, sorry, not execution. Good lord." He buries his face in his hands.

These folks really are a family.

# 8 Outpost

Proxima Pi is the nearest Centrist outpost to the Rock. On the Rock, we live a free and easy life. On Pi, they got rules. On top of their other rules. Then there's the regulations. Stop me now or I'll make a speech.

Sky pipes up over the loudspeaker, "All ashore that's going ashore."

"Whew, we got our clothes back on just in time," I say, as Wolf and I exit the restroom. Wolf was helping me calm my nerves.

"You new to the thousand mile high club, Wolf?" I ask.

"Mm-hm." His eyes twinkle.

We troop into the shuttle. Seven is a crowd for the shuttle.

Anyhow, on Pi things are different. We gotta toe the line, which ain't easy if yore not used to it. Now, I grew up on one of the Dinosaur Planets, Triassic. Whole continent full of farmers and ranchers, just the one small town, Frontier. Not a lot of rules. We raised our herds, got to town to deliver our calves and crops once, maybe twice, a year. Pretty much like the Rock. My cowboying partner, Michael, is another Dino planet guy.

And the Chaser family, or is it the Mullens family? Anyhow, being Lone Wolf, Spud, Painter, Kiwaku and their mom Coati Chaser, they all grew up on the Rock. I guess. Been there many years in any case. Suppose they hail from elsewhere originally. Everyone does, not a question often asked as some of us, like me and Michael, have warrants. Whether we deserve them or not. It is not considered polite to ask folks their life history hereabouts.

Sir Jacob and Lady Beverly, well, his Lordship Sir Jacob was on the Rock's terraforming crew and settled here thereafter, a stowaway on a planet. I got no idea exactly where he and his mom hail from before. One of the Brit planets, must be, they talk like Brits. More refined than us. Although, I have known folks to learn a Brit accent as a way to hide their true origins. Kind of hoping they know more than I do about life on Pi. Someone needs to know what the hell we are doing.

Too late to ask now, shuttle just set down. Sir Jacob opens the hatch and we step outside to nothing. Just brush and trees, I can't see any buildings at all.

"What the fuck? This ain't so bad," I say. "I don't see no city."

'Whoosh.'

Sky takes off in the shuttle, headed back to the S.S. Cosmic. We are afoot and alone.

"I heard Pi was a big overpopulated station, never thought there'd be bush. Hope someone knows what we are doin'," I say.

Wolf looks over and says, "Not worry Annie, Wolf here."

"And how does a country Injin like you know anything about here?"

Lady Beverly shushes us and says, "Children, we are just over the hill from town. Please stay quiet."

"Yes'm," says Wolf and takes off his shoes. I wonder why.

We all walk up over a small hill, maybe a quarter mile in all and shazam, we're in town.

"That area is a big wilderness park. They are popular in this quadrant. It is a capital place to land discreetly," says Sir Jacob.

"Sho' nuff," I say in Mose speak.

Soon, a car appears. It stops beside us and the doors open. There is no one inside, not even a driver.

"Holy cow, how did that happen?" i ask.

"Sir Jacob magic," says Wolf.

"You been here before, Wolf?" I ask.

"Un-uh."

"It is not magic, I sent for the vehicle," says Sir Jacob. "We shall go to the house and relax a while. Eat a meal. Then we will help Lady Beverly go check on her son, Spud."

"Were he actually my son, he would absolutely not be named after a potato," says her Ladyship.

"Oh, he is Walter in fact. Spud is a nickname," I say.

"Praise the gods, I had forgotten. Walter Mullens is much better," says Lady Beverly. "Annie, I will need you, Wolf, Michael and Kiwaku with me in case of trouble. Let us get you dressed properly. Kiwaku, you will be Kit today, Spud's sister as always. The truth is easier to remember. We will present a united family front. Annie, you will be the quiet one, say nothing and follow my cues."

"Yes. Listen to Mama. She is experienced at reading people and getting what she wants from them. Follow her lead and trust her instincts," says Sir Jacob.

"Sir Jacob and Lady Beverly know this world. We do not. We listen," says Wolf.

Lady Beverly wags a finger and says, "Uh uh uh, he is Lord Jacob while we are here on Pi. That is the proper title. Sir is only proper for those who have been knighted by the Queen."

"Ah," says Lord Jacob dreamily, "if only we could find the Queen, or a King even. I like being Sir Jacob. Knights in shining armor, what?"

"We must get into our roles. Let us begin," says Lady Beverly.

"Yes, your Ladyship," I say and curtsy.

"Wait, mama. Walter is a Mullens, you are a Bridbury," says Lord Jacob.

"Quite. This is not my first deception. 'Nephew', I will say, in case passcards are needed," says Lady Beverly.

"Not worry Annie, Lady Beverly pull wool over everyone's eyes. She have the touch," says Wolf.

The car slows and pulls up outside the formerly fancy, but now quite rusty, gates of a large estate. There are huge trees on the grounds and a tall, solid wall with broken glass shards embedded in the top.

We all dismount from the vehicle, still alive. Sounds silly when I say it, I know, but I lost my trust in land vehicles after the wreck. Thing went crazy on us. Anymore, I want to kiss the ground every time I disembark.

I look around. Between the high wall, the hedge and huge trees, I can't see any buildings.

"Holy shit," I say as I drop and roll. My pistol is in my hand. I shoot three of the buzzing monsters before I realize that Wolf is talking to me.

"Yore shooting the mail, Annie," he is saying.

"What?"

"The mail drones, you must not kill them, Annie. It is a federal offense. Holster your weapon immediately," says Lord Jacob.

"Did you just fall off the turnip truck, young lady?" asks Michael.

I look up at them. Everyone is laughing.

"Oh," I say and put away my gun. "Sorry, Triassic flashback. I thought they was velociraptors."

Sir, um, Lord Jacob unlocks the gate and we all head up the drive, which has several large bomb craters in it. A large bombed out ruin of a mansion sits atop a rise in front of us. The walls are half fallen in, there is debris everywhere.

As I step off the drive to go around one of the bomb craters, Wolf says, "Look, Annie." I turn just as he, having jumped, is dropping toward the crater.

"Watch out!" I say.

He lands not in the hole, but at ground level. He grins and says, "Illusion, Annie."

"I hired a fabulous, inventive artist," adds Lord Jacob. "From outside the gates, especially, one cannot tell that 'tis but a painting."

As we get to the far side, Wolf has me look back. From this angle, if one looks carefully, one can see that the craters are two dimensional paintings. The undamaged drive curves around behind a small hill to the ruin of what must have once been a second grand and stately manor house. It is also in grievous disrepair.

I am still eying the skies. "You sure they ain't no dinos about?"

"No, to my knowledge no dinosaurs have been reported on Proxima Pi. Ever, Annie," says Lord Jacob.

"I got a bad feelin'. Civilization makes me nervous."

"Easy girl, cálmate," Michael says and gives me an abrazo, an arm squeeze around my shoulders. "We will watch out for you."

"Wolf cover Annie back. Watch for dinosaurs. Hell, Wolf never seen one. What they look like?" asks Wolf. Then he smiles.

"Oh yeah, you'll be a great help, Wolf," I say.

"Not worry. Wolf shoot first ask questions later, not want Annie upset. Wolf still in charge of protecting Annie for Spud."

"Wolf," says Lord Jacob. "Not shooting, barring extreme emergencies, is a prerequisite for survival on Proxima Pi. They hang troublemakers here."

"Yes," says Lady Beverly. "This is not the Rock. Indeed, rules do abound."

"See?" I say to Michael. "I never been here and I knew. 'Rules abound.' Just like all the big city planets everywhere. I told ya."

Michael chuckles and says, "Whatever you say, sweetie."

Lord Jacob leads us around the back of the ruined mansion to a listing door. He holds his palm against a wall which, amazingly, unlocks the door. He pulls it easily aside and we step into a stately manor.

"Wow, you are magic," I say, in awe.

"Yes, we did a bit of mural work on the outside of the building also to enhance the appearance of ruination. Thus, we have a quite comfortable hideout right in plain sight," says his Lordship.

"Off the grid also," adds her Ladyship.

"True, no city utility use to give us away."

"But the car can be traced?" asks Michael.

"No, we maintain a remote garage," says Lord Jacob. "It has taken itself there, round the back and out of sight down a curving forest roadway. The garage is built into the hillside. The car is available at a few minutes' notice."

We three females head upstairs to a fancy bedroom with chairs, couches, a mini bar and tables full of them clever shiny things.

"These are fine and fancy little sculptures. You seem to have 'em on all the tables in every room," I say. "You must of been collectin' fer years."

"Those, my dear, are knick knacks," Lady Beverly informs me. "They make one's home pleasant and restful to the eye."

"Aha." I think, what strange useless things rich folks collect.

Lady Beverly proceeds to get Kit and I all duded up. She hands each of us a bundle of clothes and we go behind screens to change. I am civilized enough to have heard that there are folks with bodies so ugly they don't undress in front of others. Not even when they get hot or excited. So, I don't have to embarrass myself by asking about the screens.

I lay the bundle of things down on a chair. I mean I was expecting a dress, but there is a whole batch of stuff on top of that. After sorting through and organizing it by layer, I get dressed up.

Finally, I am completely citified. Garters, nylons, high heels, jewels. And, holy cats, the dresses! Full and flouncy they are! After admiring my getup in the mirror fer a while, I walk out from behind the screen and twirl fer Lady Bev and Kit.

"Whooee, I look a treat, right?" I ask, looking proudly at them.

Kit is holding a hand over her mouth and her shoulders are shaking.

Lady Beverly has her mouth open.

"Oh, is my hem not straight?" I ask. Hey, I've worn a dress at least twice before.

"That is the least of your worries, young lady," says Lady Beverly. "Might I suggest a few simple adjustments?"

Kit, I notice, has fallen back on the couch in some sort of seizure.

"Is she okay, your Ladyship?" I ask, pointing at Kit.

"Oh, my dear, she is only laughing. Come, you need a lesson in garment etiquette. Kit, you must contain yourself and help me."

Kit sits up and contains her giggles, saying, "Sorry, I did almost the same my first try at being a lady."

"You did," says her Ladyship, and smiles fondly. "One misses out on the finer things in life out in the provinces. I remember the occasion vividly."

Kit starts giggling again.

Lady Beverly looks me up and down and says, "Firstly, these small items which you have somehow managed to strap over your dress are in fact called undergarments. This is because they go under, in the very first layer against the skin.

"The second layer is this shiny, lacy item." Her Ladyship is lifting and looking at my garments. What I thought was my fine arrangement.

"I put the dress on, then added the shiny bright colored little adornments next," I say. "What's the point of havin' things on that no one can see? It just adds weight."

Lady Beverly laughs, and says, "You may have a point my dear, but most people consider modesty important. I've no idea how you managed, but you have everything in the exact reverse order. This is the slip, which goes over the undergarments and under the dress. Go back behind the screen. Oh dear, Kit, go help her, we haven't all day."

I disrobe completely, all the way back to my birthday suit. Kit hands me one item at a time. I still can't make hide nor hair of 'em, so Kit helps strap me in.

Good golly, that's a lot of shit, er, stuff. I am hot and sweaty by the time Kit gets it all hung on me. I am soon feeling itchy and scratchy, too.

Not to mention the female unmentionables, which I myself had never tried before. You tried them? The top ones are tight and pinchy. The bottoms? Them thongs ride right up yore crack. Like I said before, nobody can see them. But, Kit tells me, they gotta match yore outfit anyway.

And, whew, perfume. It smells, but not too horrible bad. Then, they apply five pounds of makeup to my face. Am I that ugly?

Little Kit is a beautiful thirteen. I am an awkward, way awkward, twenty-one. Dresses, heels, makeup? Not my thing. I feel like a klutz and a fraud. I keep falling over the skinny spike heels, nothing at all like a fat cowboy heel and way taller. However, what with the addition of wigs and big hats, our faces are hard to see. We surely don't look like our simple country selves.

After a lot of adjustments and complaints, okay mostly on my part, we troop outside to go into town.

"Flounce, ladies," says Lady Beverly. "You look like storm troopers, not ladies."

"Huh?" I ask as I trip over my own high-heeled feet, again.

"Good gracious, must we have a lesson in feminine ways and wiles?" asks her Ladyship. "One never says 'huh'."

"Yes, your Ladyship, I apologize. I can do bettah." I am suspicious that a Brit accent might be a problem for this cowgirl.

"Fortunately, Kit has had diction, elocution and model training. Thanks to myself, of course. Emulate us. And, remember, in your case, silence is golden."

"I'm thinkin'."

Lady Beverly, ever the lady, stifles a groan, but can't resist an eye roll.

We turn around as the front door opens behind us. Out walk two fabulous ladies, one of whom looks out of sorts.

"Wonderful morning, ladies," says a fabulous Michael, flipping a wrist. "I am Michelle. Easy enough to remember, yes?" He, or she, preens.

The other 'lady' is tugging at her waistline, and then she moves to swipe a hand across her face.

"Willa! You will ruin your makeup," says her Ladyship. "You have but to relax, young lady, all will be well."

"Arrrgh," says Wolf/Willa.

I about fall off my heels laughing.

Kit pipes up, "Sister Willa, you are adorable. But you must not squirm or grumble."

"Little sister," asks 'Willa', "how you learn to talk like that?"

"As I was saying, before you arrived," says Lady Beverly, "I give fabulous lessons in ladylike behavior. You should join us next time.

Wolf looks like a thunderstorm about to shoot out a tornado. Unlikely to join a class in ladylike behavior, ever.

"Come now, everyone line up. Shoulders back, ladies, show off your chests."

We all limp into line and try to look like females, at least, if not of the actual high class Brit nobility sort.

"Try harder. Please."

Lady Beverly walks over and poses us. She goes behind us and pulls on shoulders, fluffs hair, and fixes hats. Kit helps by straightening our skirts and smoothing our nylons.

"Nice legs Willa and Michelle, and those tits!" I say, unable to resist teasing my buddies. "Where's Lord Jacob, he would be a pretty lady. And have the right accent."

"You implyin' that I ain't purty?" asks Wolf, er, Willa.

"Pfft," I say.

"Willa, you should speak in a falsetto. Otherwise you will never pass," says Lady Beverly.

"Okay, Auntie, I will attempt such," he says.

"And only speak if absolutely necessary, and talk hoarsely. I can explain that you have laryngitis, if needed."

Willa croaks out a few reasonably female falsetto words.

"You also, Annie. A lady must never sound like a ruffian."

"But, I am a girl," I say in protest.

"Sorry, you are a bit of a manly macho sounding sort. A gentrified lady is best a bit shrill rather than even a touch masculine. Accent the higher notes. Act like Michelle here. She is the best woman of the bunch."

Michael/Michelle curtsies and grins.

"Be sure to wave your hand always palm outward," says Michelle.

She demonstrates with her patented wrist flip.

Lady Beverly nods, saying, "Men show the backs of their hands to others, women their palms. Either look demure and stare at the ground or flirt outrageously. We want to be remembered for our presence, not our faces."

We all flounce around a bit more, trying our damndest to be highborn fashion floozies.

"Good gad, this is difficult," I say.

"Yes, that is correct, high toned words, flashing wrist, tossing hair," says her Ladyship. "We may, some of us, survive the day.

That is sobering. This is not play acting.

"Remember everyone, names. Use your girlish voices, ladies. Now, say your name down the line."

"Kit."

"Annie."

"No, my dear, you shall be Anna."

"Anna."

"Michelle," says Michael.

"Willa," Wolf croaks.

"Fabulous, my dears. Just in time. Our carriage awaits."

The car has driven up and stopped beside us. How in the hell does that work? Oh, I mean 'Whatever guides these unpeopled vehicles?'

Okay, I will likely come off as the hick that I am. Hopefully I won't get the rest killed if I fuck up.

"Shit, Willa if you can sound highborn," I say, "it oughta be easy for me."

"Anna," admonishes her Ladyship, "mind your language, a lady never uses expletives in public. Stay in character from now forward. We shall see how things proceed. I fhtings get sticky it may be necessary for some or all of you to create a distraction."

"Yes, your Ladyship. My apologies," I say.

"I thought Willa would be my biggest problem, oh dear." Lady Beverly shakes her head in frustration.

As we talk, the car has been driving down the road. Seriously, there are no reins, no steering mechanism at all, nothing but a button. We just sit and trust the fucking, oh, crap, no, yeesh. Might as well get out the soap right now. I can't even think without cussing. Do the Brits have special refined expletives for the highborn to use?

The road becomes so crowded that we our forward progress is slowed. After a while things speed back up. Cars are careening everywhere, cutting others off in a giant game of chicken. On a parallel road, I see two cars collide and forty other seem to crash into them. I get nervous about this, so look up through the glass roof.

We are moving into thicker and taller buildings. They loom over us, casting shadows on the roof window, whatever it is called. Oh, skylight. I do know a thing or two about town.

"Ohhhh," I say and wrap my hands around my head.

"What is wrong, Anna?" asks Willa.

"They are closing in on us, tipping over," I say. "What if there is an earthquake?"

"Willa will save Anna. Do not worry."

"You have been to a city before?" I ask.

"No. Willa stronger then things. Do not lose faith Anna. Spud, er, Walter needs us to help him. Nothing matters but saving brother," says Willa. "Be here now for mission. Besides, no one else worried. Trust Lady Beverly."

"Thank you Willa," says the Lady. "Your voice is improving also. If you must speak, try to use complete sentences."

"My dress is uncomfortable to no end," says Willa. "My stockings itch. My shoes pinch. The pain makes my voice shrill."

We laugh.

"Now you realize what we civilized ladies put ourselves through in order to catch a deserving husband."

"Yes. I do. It is pure torture," I say. "Not at all worth it. I do believe I'll remain a cowhand."

They giggle at this.

We finally arrive at a large ugly stone building. It seems to float above a parking area full of smaller and even goofier looking cars. The five of us creep and unfold our way out of our 'big' vehicle.

"These little cars look too small for even two folks, er, persons," I say.

"Oh, sweetheart, you are nearly twice the size of a regular person," says Michelle.

I stand up to my full height, shoulders back and say, "You sayin' I'm fat?"

"Language, my dear," says Lady Beverly. "You must appear to belong here. Never stand out."

"No, obviously you are not overweight. Freakishly tall is what I am saying, love," says Michelle.

"Yeah, freakishly tall persons never stand out." Wolf is six four and I am, a short by comparison, six foot two. Of course, now, we have added four-inch heels to that.

"You, my dear, and the fabulous and haughty Willa are simply fashion models," says Michelle. "And quite beautiful ones. Now, everyone, stand up straight and walk with gay pride."

We walk into the building like just what we appear to be, long tall leggy and gi-irls! Lady Beverly is in the lead. Not a tall lady, but with the royal presence of a duchess, even a queen.

She leads us over toward a high counter. The man behind the counter is on the phone. He is wearing a shabby citified suit, wrinkly and gross. He waves and gestures us to some chairs.

Her Ladyship struts right up to the counter. She waves an arm as though she owns the place.

Michelle nods to the man and says, "Young man. May I present..."

The man keeps talking into his phone, "Yes, it was a great game, those Northerners kicked butt. Did you see that..."

Michelle reaches across the counter and runs a hand down phone guys arm, and somehow the phone is in her hand. Before the guy has a chance to protest, she hangs up the phone and starts talking.

"Young man," she says and primps. "May I present the Dowager Empress Rackingham of the planet Quintania."

We all stand two steps behind her Ladyship and try to look fetching and entitled.

"She has come to secure her nephew."

"Kind sir," says Lady Beverly, haughtily. "There has been a mistake. My nephew has been falsely detained. He has done no wrong. He will be released at once."

"Lady," says the counter guy. "There is a line. Take a number. These other people are ahead of you."

I notice 'Willa' heading off down a hallway. The counter guy starts to turn his head that way.

I shriek and faint, falling gracefully to the floor, to distract him.

"Oh my goodness," says Lady Beverly. "The future Empress. Quick, call our medicbot. Michelle, where is our solicitor? Whatever do I smell in the air? She has allergies. There may be a need for legal action here."

Counter guy looks nervous.

Lord Jacob sweeps grandly into the room dressed like a fine and fancy Brit Lord. He rushes straight to Lady Beverly, ignoring me completely.

"Lady Barbara. You rang?" he asks, improvising a pseudonym. Oops. We had forgotten to.

Kit and Michelle are helping me to my feet.

Lord Jacob says, "We will need photos and statements from everyone, no one can leave."

He looks over at the counterman and says, "Unless you would like to apologize to her Ladyship."

He moves closer and adds in an undertone. "Have you dealt with Royals? One never makes an Empress wait. It is just not done. Let her in man, or she will gather the entire legal team. At that point, there is no going back. International diplomatic incident. Settlement in the millions. For you, a lost job. Now is the time for a quick decision."

"Oh, oh, um I'm sorry your, um, majesty?" he says, reddening and looking quizzically at Lord Jacob.

"Your Ladyship."

'Um, your Ladyship, my sincere apologies," he stammers. "Who is your nephew?"

'You don't know?" Lady Beverly asks, straightening her shoulders and looking down her nose.

"Sorry, your Ladyship, I am new here."

"Hmph."

"Yes, yes, let us in to see him," says Lord Jacob.

"Oh no, you have to wait for an escort."

"Did I just hear you say 'wait' to her Ladyship and the royal entourage?"

Kit is now sobbing loudly into a handkerchief. Michelle and I, having recovered and gotten bored, are rearranging the waiting room chairs.

Kit suddenly yells, "This way."

She runs off down a hallway opposite where Willa disappeared. We are some big ass, overgrown, noisy, spoiled royal adult children.

Counter guy looks around at us. He says, wide eyed, "Oh, uh, no."

"No matter, I am an officer of the court. I will accompany them. Just point us in the correct direction."

Counter guy is ready to be rid of us yesterday at this point. "But I must know your nephew's name."

Lady Beverly falls on the floor and starts jerking around and babbling.

Lord Jacob bends over her and exclaims, "Oh, another fit." He looks over at the counter guy. "They run in the family, so tragic. Here, come help. I can't handle her alone. She mustn't swallow her tongue."

Counter guy looks sick.

During the excitement, we 'kids' all head quietly down the same hall where Willa had gone earlier.

"Crikey," I hear Lord Jacob say after we round the first bend.

When we get to the end of the hall, Willa is knocking on the last door. She motions us over. We get to the door, which is locked. Michelle uses a hairpin and, in a flash, we are in.

Spud/Walter is there handcuffed to a table. He is an unbelievably handsome hunk of a man. Broad at the shoulders and narrow at the hips. He has straight blonde hair, which he parts on the side, thick bangs hang down to his eyebrows. His eyes are frost blue with royal blue flecks. He is wearing a 'been at the Sheriff's Convention' blue plaid Western shirt with shiny pearl snaps and dark blue jeans. His belt is hand tooled. The ornate buckle is made of sparkling silver and copper. His alligator boots are shined within an inch of their life.

He is my honey. Still can't believe it.

Michelle, who wishes Walter was gay, takes her hairpin over and gets to work releasing him.

"Hey girls, you all look lovely," Walter says smiling suggestively.

"They said you were a witness," I say, "not a prisoner."

"This is how they define not a prisoner on Pi," he says. "I just said I needed to get back to the Rock to work, and would return to testify. Maybe I punched a law guy or two after they said no."

"Not surprising," I say.

"Okay," Walter says, looking around. "High ceiling, no windows. How do we get out?"

"I thought you were the plan guy," I say.

"No, I am a mere helpless rescuee."

"Give me your shoes, brother," says Willa, taking over. "I hide in vent up there, spy. We build a stack."

Kit is undoing a roll of rope she has wrapped around her body under the dress. Michelle pulls carabiners and pulleys out from somewhere in her full skirt. Willa undresses. He hands his dress, wig and high heels to Spud. Underneath, Wolf is sporting coveralls. He unrolls the legs and pulls the sleeves down. Walter rolls up his pants and dons Wolf's dress and things. Soon Walter is a girl, the new improved Willa. Michelle does a quick skin darkening makeup job on him. Or is it her?

I shove the rest of his boy clothes into my oversized purse.

Barefoot and all cross-dressed up, Spud/Willa stands under the vent. Wolf boosts Michelle up onto Willa's shoulders.

"No looking up my skirt," Michelle jokes.

"Never, ever want to see what's up there," says Spud/Willa, groaning for effect.

We laugh.

Wolf helps Kit climb up to Michelle's shoulders. She reaches up, opens the vent, pulls herself up and in. After a bit, she comes out with the rope ends. She and Michelle climb down. I wrap a rope around Wolf's shoulders and create an impromptu harness, joining the ends with a water knot. Then, I clip the dangling rope into the harness and we hoist him into the vent.

"Be easier if you were smaller, bud. We could hoist you up on our shoulders like Kit," I say.

Now, I know that we are in a hurry, there is danger and concentration is paramount and all. But all this clothes changin' and 'not' lookin' up skirts and gymnast climbin'. Dayum. Walter, Wolf and Michael, too. Skirts or tight coveralls, with muscles bulging, not too shabby. Three sexy studs in action. And only one is gay.

"Um, oh. Wait." I snap back to reality, pull a clipboard out from under my blouse and toss it up to Wolf. He catches it on the fly, winks and puts the vent cover back in place.

We all pull our big hats on over our wigs. The new Willa tucks all his blond hair out of sight under a black wig that matches Wolf, um, the original Willa's hair. We adjust each other's hats and pull the wide brims low over our eyes once again.

"You look nice with a deep, dark tan and heels," I say to Spud, now Willa, as we sashay down the hall and out of the building.

Fortunately, counter guy is busy with a long line of customers. The same number of us walk out as walked in earlier.

"Remind someone to go back for Wolf," I say.

"You sure we need him?" asks Willa as 'she' grins at me with bright red lips from under her hat brim.

Lord Jacob and her Ladyship await us with the car at the curb.

After we all get safely in the car and down the road a bit, Willa leans over and gives me a big smooch.

"Oh darlin'," she says. "You, I have missed."

# 9 Island

Lord Jacob cranes his neck to look back at me from the right front seat.

"You see, Anna? I am an excellent driver," boasts Lord Jacob.

"You are so clever, your Lordship. How is it that you are steering this thing? I still can't see neither steering wheel nor pedals."

"Mind over matter, my dear."

"Wolf told you that Lord Jacob is magic," says Michael.

I had learned on Terrania, whilst almost killing Michael and myself, that the old unmotivated vehicles had a steering wheel and pedals and levers and shit. I only drove the one time. Fucked up, them things. Me and the internal combustion engine just don't get along. Even tractors, I'd just as soon let the other guys drive 'em.

Back at the estate, we all pry ourselves out of the car.

"These land boats are definitely designed for smaller folks than us," I say.

"Yeah," says Kit, "you big guys were smooshing me."

"Dang, I shore am glad you got my message, sisters," Spud says, as he gives Kit a hug. "Now let's get outta these gruesome girl duds."

"I don't know," I say. "You boys look sexy in drag."

That brings out the smiles. Spud blushes.

Michelle notices and asks, "First time in drag, Walter?"

Spud turns redder and gazes at the ground.

We go inside the mansion and change back into our own selves. Not nearly as fancy as Lady Beverly had made us out to be. Just plain old folks, in fact.

Spud and I take advantage of the chance to get reacquainted. I have missed them tight buns and some of them other things, too.

Yore imagination will suffice fer that scene.

Later, we reassemble downstairs in the nick of time for a fine and much appreciated feast. After our meal, we lounge about the fabulously furnished room in great luxury.

"Lawsy me, I never saw such fine fittin's in all my born days," says I.

"It's somethin', ain't it darlin'," Spud agrees.

Kit comes around with a nice bottle of wine. Yes, cowboys, and Injins too can appreciate a glass of wine now and again. A beer or two to start things out is best.

"Lord Jacob, you are no slouch in the wine making department," says Spud.

"Lord Jacob on this planet," Lady Beverly reminds us.

"Okay. Your lordship," Spud agrees.

"Yes, thank you, Spud," says Lord Jacob. "I say, how is it that Painter was taken?"

"I never did get but a moment alone with him on the trip over on the Shitkicker. They kept him heavily guarded at all times. What he was able to say is that there was a girl at the root of it all. What he did was be a teenager, I imagine," says Walt. "Being fifteen, he couldn't wait to visit this girl. And, of course, he had no idee there was a roadblock. Got no papers. He rode around that last corner daydreamin' about gettin' him some. Hell, they scooped him up easy, he said.

"I imagine Kit told you some of the rest. What I know is that when Soames, the roadblock crew and I all got to the Shitkicker, there was Paint, cuffed to the hatch handle. I asked, 'Who is this?'

"Soames says, 'This is who killed our Superintendent. We have him dead to rights.'

"During the Trip to Pi here I made some tries to get him freed. Talked about him bein' just a kid and all, but as you all likely guessed they needed any warm body they could find to divert attention off of theirselves fer killin' ol' Headless Jones. Claimed they watched Paint do it. Witnessed it with their own eyeballs, they said. Liars. Dayum.

"Too many of them fuckers to deal with 'em onboard the ship. And too many questions on this end, if I killed the whole bunch. They was mighty edgy and watchful, too. So when we arrived here on Pi, I set about gettin' you the message and tried to keep track of where they took Painter.

"Just after I got the message out to you, I got took too. Which as you know from my note I kinda expected, so I had ditched my wallet, passcard and such. I had heard them say during the flight over here that since they didn't know who Painter was, they would appoint him a lawyer. They planned to tell the lawyer that I was a witness. No idee why. Maybe to get me out of circulation. Hell, I'd been close-mouthed 'bout the whole thing. Maybe they were just suspicious 'cause I am from the Rock. We Rockers do all stick together. But. Heck. I'm the Sheriff, ain't the sheriff supposed to be the good guy?"

"They wanted you, as an outsider and a law dog, to verify their story. Your words would give it credence, an unbiased witness, one would imagine," says Lord Jacob. "They must not realize that you and Painter are related."

"Yeah. So they come and rounded me up to give a statement or deposition or such. I got a mite upset and put up some resistance. Especially when they went to put on the cuffs. Actually, I mighta sideswiped a' officer or two in the cuffin' process. Anyhow, you come just in time. I was gettin' tired of the whole deal.

"Also a bit worried that Painter might not make it to trial. Soames is nervous as hell. And having no idee who the kid is, him not bein' in the passcard system, makes 'em all jumpy as hell."

"So," asks Kit, "brother, you have a plan?"

"I do."

"Pray tell, Walter," says his Lordship.

"Seems they took him out to some island. Got a prison out there."

"Ah, yes, Zartacla, I know of it," says Lord Jacob.

"You know the layout?" asks Michael.

"Oh, I've a unique knowledge of this particular prison facility. I was formerly a guest there, but not for a sufficient length of time to acquire an intimate knowledge," says Jacob looking pensive. "However, I do know of a man who might."

Lord Jacob strands and straightens his vest. "And I believe I know where to find him. I'm off."

"Need help?" asks Spud.

"Best not, he is a shy sort. I shall return," says Lord Jacob as he exits.

Spud looks at the rest of us and says, "We ready to go soon's he gets back?"

"'Cept fer knowin' what we're doin'? Sure," I say.

"Vamanos, mas pronto osea mejor. That is, the sooner the better," says Michael. "I forget that the Rock has not much Spanish. Here on Pi, my ears rejoice when I hear folks speak the mother tongue, even whne it is a bastard mix with English."

"¡Pues claro que sí, compadre!" I say. "of course! ¿Osea mejor sí hablamos ingles con eses, no lo crees?"

"Yes, we will confine ourselves to Ingles here, sorry. English. One misses one's first language at times," says Michael.

"Ah," says Spud. "I hear the voice of Don Miguel, come to life."

Michael reddens, then smiles and says, "Seguro que sí."

We all laugh.

Old Earth had more Chinese than any other tribe, so one would think Chinese would have become the dominant lingo and taken over the world. Thing was, however, the pilots, airports, all such spoke English, an ancient trade language. Pilots and airports spanned the world. Didn't matter your nationality or birth language, to be a pilot, or air traffic controller, you had to learn English. Included everyone in the sky. So it was. The 'English only' air travel industry rules and those Catholic Hispanics who had a couple and some more kids, in the end they ruled. Now we mostly speak Spanglish. It is the official language of the triumvirate of superpower planets: Yaquin, Chilt and Talu. No doubt about it, amigo.

'Cept, as Michael mentioned, fer a few back alley planets like the Rock. True primitives and lovin' it. A few other planets have different languages, too. Spanglish, like the old Swahili of Africa is the common trade language that will get you by in most places, not all.

Lord Jacob returns from his jaunt accompanied by a tall slim gentleman.

"May I present my old friend Buzz," he says. "My compañeros."

He sweeps an arm to encompass us all and then makes introductions.

Buzz can only be described as larger than life. I'd have to say Viking god large. Plus, he is strikingly handsome in a chiseled features kind of way. Nice firm jawline. Me likey.

He is blonde, with sapphire blue eyes and light tan skin. He is slender, but powerful, like he does resistance work and covers miles.

Oh yeah. A runner who works out. Long, lean and strong.

I stand up casually to see just how tall he is. This is the universal freakishly tall woman's man measuring stick. Go stand close behind the man. We use it for assessing potential boyfriend material on the spot. Sometimes, we look back at a friend and hold a flat hand on the top of our head so they can tell us if he really is taller. Seriously, I have taken a poll, tall girls must do it instinctively.

I glide over as if my only goal is to shake hands. I have to look up. Nice. Buzz is much taller than me. No second opinion needed. I almost never meet any people that I have to look up to. Much less young good looking ones. But lately my life seems to be full of them. So awesome. I must be dancing to the right rhythm.

As you will remember, Spud and Wolf are taller. And this new guy, wow, he has a good four inches on me. Hot dayum, more than one potential mate to choose from. Tall girl nirvana. Short girls have no idea how thin the ranks are for us. Those fucking undersize bitches steal our tall guys all the damn time.

I hold my hand out. He delivers a warm, firm handshake and looks down into my eyes with a direct friendly gaze.

Oh baby.

# 10 Buzz

The rest of the crew comes over to shake hands also. Buzz bows his head in a courtly manner and says, "A veritable pleasure, Lord Jacob has spoken very highly of all of you. I believe that I may be of help in your current endeavor. If you would be so kind as to fill me in on the history here."

Buzz and Lord Jacob both smile at us.

Spud turns to Lord Jacob and says, "Not the Buzz from yore old stories."

"The very one," says Lord Jacob.

"Ah."

"Spud is one of the prisoner's older brothers," Lord Jacob tells Buzz.

Spud nods and turns to Buzz.

"Painter is just a kid, fifteen years old," he says. "We would surely appreciate any help in gettin' him out."

"I must explain our plight here, Buzz," Lord Jacob says. "We had a run in with this Soames bastard on the Rock. During a shootout in which Annie and Painter's other brother, Wolf, were innocently involved, a man was killed. When Annie and Wolf found his body, he was in essence a John Doe. His head blown clean off, you see. So the temporary appellation 'Headless' came into favor among us. In any case, come to find out this headless soul was a gentleman named Jones, a Superintendent from Pi here. Soames and his accomplices worked under him. They killed Jones in a disagreement concerning their dubious activities. Soames himself delivered the bullet, but I believe they all conspired to end him. Apparently, Jones was honest and they were not.

"Hence, Jones' subordinates needed a scapegoat to deflect the blame for the killing. Painter apparently showed up at just the right moment to fill the role of assassin."

"Oh my," says Buzz. "Quite a mess. I shall be glad to assist."

"You ain't concerned 'bout yore own possible exposure to danger?" asks Spud.

"I have had my own collisions with injustice hereabouts, to be sure," says Buzz. "Gentry from my part of the Cosmos can have a bit of a rough interlude on encountering the Centrists and their ilk."

"Ah yes," agrees Lord Jacob, as he fills Buzz' wine glass. "Can be a bit of a sticky wicket."

"Buzz," I say. "It sounds to me from yore accent like you are from the same neck of the woods as Lord Jacob."

"Sounds being the operative word in this case," says Buzz. He looks at Lord Jacob, who nods. "I am actually Bãngh. I was educated on Brit."

"What?" I ask.

"Bãngh," Buzz says.

"Bong?"

"No, it is pronounced a bit like 'bong', but is in fact a planet. Try saying 'Baangh'. It is spelled B-a with a tilde-n-g-h."

"Pardon, Annie. He is from not only a different planet, Bãngh, he is a member of what many humans consider a different species," says Lord Jacob. "Since Lord Brawley published his book "The Nature of Life", Bãngh have been considered by most to be aliens."

I think that through, incredulous.

"Yore jokin'," I say.

Lord Jacob says, "I am not."

Then, still befuddled, I ask, "A' alien?"

"Not quite," Buzz says.

"But, uh, you don't look alien," I say looking Buzz up and down.

"And you do not look alien to me," says Buzz.

"Yeah, I'm not alien."

"You are from my perspective," says Buzz. His eyes are gleaming with humor.

I shake my head and say, "Now, I am really confused."

Spud leans toward me and says softly, "Don't insult the Bãngh, Annie."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just thought, I mean. Please accept my apologies Mr., uh, Buzz," I say. "I am just a poor, uneducated country girl."

"Ah," says Buzz. "I was thinking, in fact, that you look like a Bãngh. As I said, you do not look alien to me. One must ask oneself again, is it you who appear Bãngh or I who appear human? We are each, depending on one's perspective, alien. If one defines alien as different or foreign. I am, after all, from a different planet."

"Okay..."

Spud rises and says, "Annie, darlin', I need yore he'p in the kitchen."

"Oh, um, okay."

As we walk off, Spud whispers, "Blink. Yore starin' at him."

After we get into the kitchen, Spud closes the door and we set to work making snacks.

"It's like science fiction. It's the future. Holy cow, how long aliens been around?" I ask. "How long have we known? Well okay, I just found out, but how long has humans known? When did you find out?

"Wait a minute." I raise a finger, thinking. "Are them Bãngh the ones who eat humans with ketchup? I heard aliens were naked unwashed savage things. And fiction, we never found no real aliens, just them old Hollywood stories. Is this the future?"

Spud opens his mouth to reply.

"This one talks fancier than Lord Jacob. How can he? Oh, of course, you got me. It's a practical joke, right?" I run out of breath.

"I doubt it's a joke. This situation is serious," says Spud.

"No kidding. A real alien? I thought they'd look weird. Have extra parts or two heads like," I say.

"Not the Bãngh, cain't tell them from humankind," he says. "If anyone here on Pi found out, no tellin' what would happen. Likely be a lotta prejudice against 'em."

"Why?"

"'Cause they are different. Humans don't like different. You never noticed that?"

"Oh. Yeah," I say, feeling downcast. "'Course I did. Me myself, in person. Dayum, now I feel bad."

"It's okay, you apologized, yore still alive. All's well. But watch yore step. You got to treat him normal. If Lord Jacob says he is okay, he is."

"Okay, I guess. Wait, what do you mean still alive?"

"Them Bãngh has powers."

"What kind of powers?"

"Dunno, jest heard stories," says Spud. "Maybe Lord Jacob knows. He is the one who first told me about these Bãngh actually existing. Most people hereabouts think they are fictional. This Buzz is the first I have met."

"How could we look like him? We are humans, we look like humans."

Spud is silent, looking at me. We pick up the trays and head back for the door.

"He'll likely calm down after this snack. Even a Bãngh gotta digest, um, maybe?" I ask.

"No idea," Spud says and smiles.

I clam up as Spud pushes the swinging door open.

Lord Jacob, Michael and Buzz have gathered around the table peering at what turns out to be a map.

"Grits on. Let's chow down," I say. "What y'all lookin' at?"

"We have a plan."

# 11 Ventilated

Meanwhile, Wolf is in the vent.

Wolf, laying quietly in the ceiling vent, waits patiently for the workday to end. He is calm. Wolf's family will get Painter back. No ifs. No buts. Will.

He is at peace in the large galvanized steel duct. Here and now is the perfect place for brain cells to connect, synapses to flash and the world to iron itself out.

We are here now. Wolf must relax, think, save little brother. Leaping Panther is young and foolish, but time will make him a great warrior. Painter practices his skills with Kit while they guard the sheep and goats. He is strong and confident. It shows in his shooting, hunting, his fine Injin endurance. He is to be a solid force in the family one day.

But, here on this strange construct called a city, Wolf feels out of balance. Will Painter feel lost also? Everyone, everything is strange. Spud has been here before. Lord Jacob and her Ladyship have a big teepee here. They are the oracles of Pi. Wolf is but a student.

Wolf hears noise below. Walking feet. Doorknob turning. People, two of them, walk into the small room. He positions an eye over the slats in the vent.

"Where is he?" one asks, a redheaded man, scanning the room.

"Must be the wrong room," says the other. Black hair.

"No, it says 'Room 180' right here on the form," says Red.

"Some bonehead wrote it down wrong," says Blackie. "I'll go check with George."

Blackie leaves and Red takes a seat in one of the chairs.

"Fucking incompetents," says Red to the air. He blazes up a joint and inhales contentedly.

In a bit, Blackie returns. As he comes around the edge of the doorway, he shakes his head at Blackie and says loudly, "This is where he is supposed to be, Superintendent. Maybe we should check across the hall first. As I said, they must have wrote it down wrong. I was just on my way to double check the paperwork."

Blackie pulls his head out and closes the door. Wolf can hear talking in the hall, but can't make out the words.

Red says, "Shit," under his breath, then wets his finger and thumb. He crushes the lit end of the joint between them. He pockets the remainder, shaking his hand to cool his burnt fingertips.

Blackie opens the door again and walks in alone, grimaces at Red and says, "That son of a bitch Soames is here to transport this guy to the deposition. Where the fuck is he?"

"Shit, I smashed my smoke for that asshole? Burnt my damn fingers in the process."

Red glances out. "Here he comes with the paperwork."

Soames comes into the room. He sniffs the air.

"Yeah," says Red and waves an open hand about. "Can you believe it? One of these dumb-asses lit a spliff right here in the room. Don't they know it's illegal to light up in a government building?"

"They double checked the form. It says room 180. Whoever was supposed to put him in here must be off to lunch. Can't find him. Go check the other rooms," says Soames. They head out the door and turn right.

"No," says Soames impatiently, "split up, you go left, you go right. It just takes one man to look in each room."

Wolf stifles a sneeze. He hears Red and Blackie walking off.

"Unless you are idiots," Soames adds, meaningfully, to the air. He starts tapping his fingers nervously on the doorway.

He comforts himself, saying, "We're okay. We don't need that hick bastard. Once we all testify, we'll be okay. We can brazen it out."

Soames looks around the room again, shrugs and walks out. Wolf hears the door closing and then Soame's footsteps walking down the hallway out of earshot.

Wolf drops out of the vent. He straightens the coveralls, to which he has added an official looking patch that says 'Inspector' and tucks his braided hair carefully up under the cap. He holds the clipboard high against his chest, opens the door and saunters out into the hall.

Red, who is just coming back along the hall, asks, "You seen a guy wandering around in handcuffs?"

"No. I have not," says Wolf, looking up at the ceiling lights and making a notation on his clipboard. After a half hour of checking fixtures along the hallway, nothing new occurs. No one sounds the alarm. Wolf turns into a stairwell and heads for the exit.

"Big city," he says to himself. "No one know anyone. Hunh."

Once out of the building, he walks the ten blocks to where Lord Jacob has sent the car to pick him up. He gets in and relaxes for the ride back to his Lordship's estate, and grateful for the incompetence of bureaucracy.

# 12 The Plan

"Them never even think maybe Walter rescued," Wolf is telling us. "They figure others fuck up, lose him in paperwork. Not sure how that work, but okay by me." He shrugs.

Maybe Wolf thinks 'lost in paperwork' means they put him in a file drawer by mistake. Now, that is a funny image.

We are once again at the table looking at the layout of Zartacla.

"Boat, snorkel or tanks?" asks Lord Jacob.

"No need, Soames say them move Painter later. We do swoop catch on the move," says Wolf. He scans the papers. "Pretty drawings."

"Oh, okay, scratch this," says his Lordship and starts rolling up the plans.

"How about the masked bandit ploy?" asks Spud. "We pull them over, take their wallets, passcards. Let Paint loose as an aside."

"Wolf bring bow. Need practice. Human make good target for practice."

"Cain't argey that," I say.

"No," says Lord Jacob. "A high tech solution will appear less obviously to have been done by Rockers. We would do best to shift the blame and Soames suspicions to others."

"Injin not know high tech," ponders Wolf aloud.

I was referring to guns, rather than bows," says Lord Jacob.

Wolf nods.

Lady Beverly and Buzz walk in with trays. They serve tea and sandwiches all around.

"Buzz," says Lord Jacob. "Allow me to introduce Spud's brother, Wolf."

"A pleasure, I am sure," says Buzz bowing.

Wolf looks him up and down, grunts, and says, "How."

Neither offers a hand to shake.

"I wonder where they are taking him?" asks Spud. He looks at Wolf. "Did Soames say anything else?"

"Wolf only hear 'transfer to cross town'."

"Across town?"

"No, 'to cross town', him say."

"Cross Town?" echoes Lady Beverly. "Why, of course. It is a processing facility for prisoners."

"How in the heck does a Lady know of that?" I ask her.

"Well," she says, "one may have not always..."

"Mama," says Lord Jacob shaking his head, "another time. Where is this facility?"

"There." She points at the map.

"Okay. To arms! We don't know when, but let's hope we get there in time. As usual, no intricate plan," says Spud. "We can eat in the vehicle."

"Wing it, we will," says Michael.

"Masks, city clothes, fully armed," says Spud.

"Nice to have fearless brother back," says Wolf, clapping Spud on the shoulder.

"Yep, our fearless leader," I agree.

We head upstairs to suit up.

Wolf slows in the hallway and looks back, "What Bãngh for?"

"How could you tell?" I ask.

"Wolf Injin."

"He is a friend of his Lordship. Lord Jacob brought him in to help us somehow," I say.

"Never meet Bãngh before," says Wolf.

"If you never met one before, how do you know what they look like? He looks like a reg'lar human to me."

"Look funny," says Wolf.

"Spud said that no one can tell them from humans. How can you?" I ask.

"Wolf prescient, and Injin."

"Yore a great help."

"You are welcome," Wolf says and grins.

"Ay, caramba!" I say and roll my eyes.

We get changed up. This time, to divert attention from the previous rescue, I am Bob. We used the girl ploy in this town already. We don't want to look like the same crew. Once I am all suited up as a man, I head downstairs. Unusually tall woman are too memorable.

"Michael, yore a boy, too! Is that a tough character for you to play?" I ask laughing, as we walk together to the car.

"Smartass," says Michael shrilly as he struts, wiggling his hips and waving a palm in the air. "I am all boy. All beautiful, beautiful boy."

"So true," I agree.

"You are a fetching gentleman yourself," he says wiggling his eyebrows at me.

Spud, Lord Jacob, Wolf and Buzz are at the car.

"Buzz," says Wolf, "What part you do?"

"I say, um," Buzz looks at Lord Jacob. "Sorry, I do not seem to understand his idiom, can you interpret?"

"Me speakum English," says Wolf, leaning hard on the Injin version of our language.

"Ah yes, Wolf is a primitive. You have heard of Injins?" asks Lord Jacob.

"Yes, in fact, I have," says Buzz. "First one I have seen, however. It had never occurred to me that they wouldn't speak the Queen's English."

"Not to worry. We shall persevere," says Lord Jacob. "Wolf is only asking what your particular talent is that will be of use in our present endeavor."

"Ah, Wolf is unfamiliar with the Bãngh," says Buzz nodding to himself. And walks off, successfully evading the question.

The car stops at the entrance to the park where we landed originally. Yesterday. Seems like longer than that.

We walk quickly out of sight of the road to the unmarked shuttle and hop aboard.

"Hey, Sky," I say as we belt into our seats. "That's Buzz."

"Hey," he says.

"My pleasure," says Buzz.

"Buzz will take right seat," says Lord Jacob.

"You're the boss," says Sky.

We mount up and belt in. Sky whooshes us off with Buzz in the right seat, navigating.

We get a first class slightly subsonic tour of Pi, kind a blurry but fast. Of course, in my book, if you've seen one skyscraper, you seen them all.

"There," says Buzz. "Straight ahead."

I look straight ahead, but see nothing.

"And there you have it," says Lord Jacob and looks at Wolf.

"Have what?" asks Wolf.

"Buzz' skill."

Buzz looks over his shoulder and says, "Buzz, Bãngh." He smiles.

We swoop down along an almost empty stretch of highway. Another mile or two further on we spot it. I only see one vehicle, a nondescript van. It looks like many I have seen in our travels around Pi. Lot of vehicles in this place. Traffic jam city. The vans are bigger, so they catch my eye.

"How do you know that Painter is inside?" I ask Buzz.

"I can tell that he is in there," says Buzz. "You cannot?"

"How can you do that?"

Just then, Sky drops us out of the sky. We fall almost to ground level.

"Buzz. Look ahead, spot for us," yells Spud from the cargo area.

"Pardon me," says Buzz, turning back to the windscreen.

"Okay, 100 yards," he yells to Spud. "She is coming up fast. Ready? It should be in your view now."

Seconds pass.

"I see it," says Spud. "Annie, come back and man the port gun."

I head back, slip in the gunners seat, double check the load and focus down the sights. I get the van in the cross hairs, then move around looking for any other bogeys. The swivel mount is awesome.

Sky matches speeds with the van. Spud releases a cable with a large round disk dangling from it.

Once it gets close to the van, he says, "Pull."

Wolf pulls a lever and...

'Clap.'

...the truck and disk become one. Electromagnets are fun.

Spud lifts the load while Sky increases our altitude dramatically. We travel not far to a wild area, no houses or roads. Spud lowers the van neatly to the ground. Then, he releases the cable and reels in the magnet. Wolf drops a grenade of some sort on the van. Smoke billows out.

Spud says, "Lord Jacob and Buzz, you two stay to protect the shuttle and cover our return. Sky, you keep the engine running."

Sky lands the shuttle in front of the van, blocking the easy escape.

We jump out. We pull our hats down, our gas masks up, and unholster our sidearms as we run toward the van.

As the van doors open, Spud lobs a quick smoke grenade to obscure our shuttle from prying eyes.

Wolf pops a stun grenade into the passenger side window as we close in.

"Nice curve."

We run over to each side of the van.

"Manos arriba!" yells Michael pointing something nasty looking at the driver.

I run up and poke my semi-auto into the guard's gut as he emerges on the passenger side, staggering and coughing.

"Su dinero, you money now!" I say with a growl.

"Quita su ropa tambien. You clothings off," says Michael.

I look over at him and whisper sotto voce, "You horny bastard."

He smiles and winks.

The guard and driver are relieved of their weapons and clothing.

Spud reaches down and takes the keys from the guard's belt. He goes into the van and retrieves Painter. He carries him out and lays him on the ground. The boy is limp and semiconscious. Spud uncuffs him and we head for the shuttle.

Wolf adds one more flash bang after we bid the guards adios.

Spud has the stunned Painter in a fireman's carry as he jumps aboard. He drops him into a seat. Wolf buckles him in.

Wolf looks in his eyes and mouths, "You okay, brother?"

He barely nods, obviously still pretty stunned, despite having been in the enclosed rear box of the van.

"Them flashbang suckers are nasty," says Spud.

A sudden gust of wind blows our smoke screen away. I see an open topped vehicle heading our way.

"Heads up!" I yell. "Shit!" I can feel the shock wave of a round whistling past my arm.

We open fire. Wolf tosses another flashbang. They are not as effective out in the open, but they ain't no walk in the park neither.

Sky floors it and we jet upward. Spud grabs me as I start to roll down the ramp.

"Whoa there, girl!"

"Damn," says Wolf.

We turn to look. Wolf is looking not at me or himself but at Buzz, who is hit.

"Cosmic, Sky," says Spud.

"Already goin'," says Sky.

We have risen above the shooters, out of range. Lord Jacob and Michael are hovering over Buzz who is, well, something is leaking out. It is bright orange.

I pull myself over, too. Not an easy pull. Couple of G's to fight.

"Dead?" I ask.

Michael looks up and says, "He is merely unconscious."

"You fellers know how to doctor a Bãngh?"

They exchange a glance, both shrugging.

"First time for everything," says Michael.

"Quite," agrees Lord Jacob.

"Let us employ the usual remedy for bleeding Annie, compression," says Lord Jacob.

Seeing nothing else handy, I pull off my shirt and hold it down tight on the wound. After a bit, the orange flow ebbs.

Spud arrives with the first aid kit.

"We will go to the ship, got medic supplies and such there," he says.

"Not a ground hospital?"

"With gunshot wounds and a Bãngh? I think not," says his Lordship.

"But they can't tell, right?" I ask. "Oh, wait. Orange blood. Damn, I'm slow sometimes."

Wolf smiles at me and says, "Mm-hm."

Painter groans and rolls his head. Spud goes over and lifts each eyelid. "You okay, brother?" he asks.

"What?" asks Painter groggily. He will be deaf for a while.

Spud squeezes his shoulder and smiles. We pull up to the Cosmic and dock on the starboard side. Spud opens the hatch. He and Wolf go in and return with a gurney. We load Buzz carefully aboard. There is a medic room of sorts where we slide him onto the table.

"Bottle, Annie," says his Lordship, "over there." He points with his chin.

I look in a glass doored medicine cabinet.

"Shit. Lord Jacob, they's a ton of bottles in here."

"The medicinal bottle, we gotta operate here," says Michael.

"Oh," I say and grab the whiskey. It is for the prairie doctors. They don't have degrees, just raw frontier experience. And balls. Big frickin' balls.

His Lordship takes a big swig and says, "Thank you, love, my hands are steadier already."

"Here, sweetie," Michael holds out a hand. He gulps three times from the proffered bottle.

"Okay, gloves," says Lord Jacob.

"Lawsy me, I are a' alien attendin' nurse," I say and giggle. My swigs of whiskey might've brought that on.

Lord Jacob laughs. He puts a screen over Buzz mouth adds a cloth and pours something liquid over it.

Michael sorts through the bottles and gets out some powders and tinctures. They move the compression rags and start pouring things into the wound and cutting.

"Is cuttin' a good idea?" I ask.

"Are you a doctor, young lady?" asks Michael.

"Naw, just yore comely apprentice," I say.

"Okay," he says. Then he smiles, no doubt, at my clever wit. "Let us experts work,"

"We are trying to retrieve the bullet," says Lord Jacob. "And yes, we are, as you would say, 'winging it'."

"I hope Bãngh are tough," says Michael, as Lord Jacob starts to stitch some innard or other.

"Humans have those?"

"Good question," says Wolf. He looks more closely and declares, "Injins don't."

"Sheeit," says Spud.

After a good bit of work, they whip out the crazy glue and close him up.

"Hey Spud," I ask. "Where is the Shitkicker?"

"Lady Bev and Kit will bring 'er up," he says. "Then we can git home."

"What about Buzz?" I ask.

"Sink or swim, he is stuck with us for a while," says Michael.

"Who knows," says Spud. "He might be the first Bãngh ever on the Rock."

"Do tell," says Lord Jacob, looking thoughtful.

# 13 Booty

Spud finds me a blue shirt to wear from his Captain's wardrobe.

"Hey, there's some nice stuff here," I say, putting it on. I am looking through the clothes and gears that we liberated from the guards. "Never seen pistols like this."

Spud wanders over to look.

"Stun guns," he says. "Work okay on regular folks. Gotta have electricity and docks to plug 'em into for recharge."

"Stun? Where's the kill button?" I ask.

"Nope. Just stun."

"What's the point?"

Wolf says, "Annie too bloodthirsty. Stun not good enough. She all kill, kill, kill."

He and Spud both chuckle.

"Yep, I was thinkin' that. But, seriously, it's a matter of security. Stun someone, they pass out, sure. But if you get distracted, they can wake up and kill ya from behind. Bad idea. No place on my horse to plug in docks, anyway. Need a current bush."

I set the stunners aside and start going through the other goodies on their belts.

"What are these?'

"Ask Sir Jacob," says Wolf, "He is tech."

Wolf, being Zen and not much interested in things, leaves us to our treasures and heads up the gangway. Spud and I go through the rest of our booty.

We fondle all kinds of good stuff. Much of it is high tech and goes in the 'ask Jacob later' pile.

"Enough," says Spud. "I'm thirsty. I believe we have some Jakey brewed beer over in the cooler."

After we pop the tops and have a deep draught, I decide to learn more about the hot and sexy brothers. Having talked to Wolf about it, I am curious about Spud's view.

I ask, "You talk about being brothers. How come he is a' Injin and yore a cowboy?"

"Well", Spud replies, "It is more than skin deep, that part bein' obvious. When we was kids, we played the roles. Me being the blue eyed blond cowboy and Wolf the brown-eyed black haired Injin. After all, we looked the parts. But we were also just that way, different but also the same. True brothers.

"He is more of the mystical shaman mumbo jumbo. I am simpler more take it at face value. Sometimes even a skeptic. 'Course, you know I don't think it's actual mumbo jumbo. I grew up seein' it for real. We have had many an adventure based on Wolf's feelin's and visions.

"But hell, we're both half and half. Not sure how that works other'n I'm a Paleface like daddy and he looks like Ma's people. But we damn sure have fun kiddin' each other 'bout it."

I nod. Smiling at the thought of how cute they are together.

"Say, not to change the subject, but my beer is empty," says Spud. "And my needs is beggin' fer repletion."

"You read my mind," I say agreeably.

We get more beer out of the cooler and adjourn to the Captain's quarters.

***

Later, I ask Wolf, "Why not just do flyovers to find the spirit animals? Spud has the shuttles."

"No, Annie. 'Tis the journey, not the destination," says Wolf. "Life is to live, experience. Place not matter, only growth. Look, see, feel. Unless place is full of humankind. No peace there."

"What happens if we see a spirit animal during approach and landing? Or do we have to close our eyes?"

"Ha ha," says Wolf as he gazes out the window at the stars.

"See any spirit animals out there in space?" I ask

"Maybe Wolf spot spirit star," he says.

He is serious, I think.

We set ourselves down and think on things a spell.

"No horses to ride up here in space," say I, bored. "Without horses, what is there? I never wanna find out myself."

"Other things exist, Annie," says Spud.

"You shore?"

"Does anything exist?" asks Wolf.

"Ay yi yi, I gotta get off this boat," I say.

Then I look at Spud and ask, "You lived yore whole life with this Zen motherfucker?"

"Stuck with him, bein' brothers an' all," says Spud.

Wolf laughs and says, "Him love every minute."

"Damn good to be together again, things got kinda dry and serious on Pi," says Spud.

"You mean cuffed to a table?" I ask.

"I also got to spend a day at the Law Enforcement Convention. Whew," says Spud. "I mean them fellers is nice and all, but they are on a totally different planet than me. Cidiots. It was all yak, yak, yak. Speeches and counter speeches. Didn't learn much. Other'n how nice the Rock is in comparison. Mighta been other country boys there, but I never run into 'em. Got kinda busy with the savin' baby brother thing."

"Mm," says Wolf.

Spud ponders a bit and then looks over at Wolf, "God gawd, were we that dumb as teenagers?"

"You got short memory brother," says Wolf with a smile. "This Pi visit go good, we all get out. Buzz live, so far. Painter learn to stay alert. Good life lesson.

"Also, Wolf learn that all them years stayin' home while crazy brother Spud travel was good idea. Proxima Pi is first order crazy place."

Spud nods in agreement.

"Yeah, that's the truth," he says as they clink bottles. "Thank the spirits we're country folk."

I nod at that then ask, "How is the boy?"

"Sleepin' it off," says Spud. "You ever get hit by one of those stunners?"

"Nope."

"Lucky. I have, not my fav'rite memory. Like a' electric fence times a billion."

"Yeah, Wolf remember. Before that shock Spud was Zen Injin like me," says Wolf with a mischievous smile.

"Shee-it," says Spud.

"Speakin' of Zen. It will be nice to get back to the Rock and return to our Spirit Quest," I say.

# 14 T'ree Forks

"Where is your camp, Mose?" I ask.

"T'ree forks," he replies. Mighty purty theah."

"Where there is a fork in a tree ?"

"Naw, t'ree not tree."

"Tree."

"Naw, one, two, t'ree."

"Oh. Three."

Mose nods. "Like ah said. T'ree rivers dat come togethah at da same place."

"Awesome."

As we head down the draw to the three forks, or T'ree Forks, I see something move in the trees.

"You see that?" I ask.

"Shaz," says Mose.

"Shaz?"

"Shaz mean bear, Annie," says Wolf.

"I don't think it was no bear."

"Naw," says Mose. "Shaz my partner, she raised by bears. So we call her Shaz. Kinda shy, she is."

Wolf laughs and says, "Shy."

He looks over at Mose and asks, "You talk to Shaz yet?"

"Shore," says Mose. "I talk plenty. She ain't much fer replies. We git along fine."

We ride on down the draw and come out of the trees into a grassy park with three good size streams converging at the lower end. We cross over and head toward the base of a hill. There are two teepees set up with the usual camp conveniences scattered around, drying racks, a fire glowing, a hitching post and a pole corral.

We ride right past the teepees over to the hillside, where there is a cave entrance. We dismount and ground tie the horses. Mose leads us into the cave.

"This my year 'round home, it warm in winter, cool in summer," he says.

"What is the teepees outside used fer?" I ask.

"Thet's whea me an' Shaz make our foofaraw. If'n she like ya, she'll show ya," says Mose. "More light in deah fer workin' on thangs than in the cave, too. We both use it of a daytime. Y'awl can sleep in da udder one."

"Shaz like Wolf," says Wolf.

"You kin tell?" asks Mose.

"Shaz smile at Wolf from tree. Love at first sight, like all women. She see Wolf is fine specimen of Injinkind."

"Yikes," I comment.

Wolf smiles brightly.

"Okay, thet's da tour. I gotta unload," says Mose.

He heads out to catch up the pack string, which has started to spread out and graze.

We help unload and carry all the panniers into the cave, where Mose sets about unpacking and stowing his winter necessities.

While Mose works, we get our camp gear arranged around the things in the other teepee. There are two possibles bags, and a set of deer hide saddlebags all beaded and fringed in fabulous colors. Portrayals of deer, cricks, a bear. It is beautiful, and time consuming work.

"Wolf," I say. "Mose and Shaz do this work?"

"Yes. Long winter trapping, have summer for tanning and working hides. Beading. Mose take things they make to town. Trade for grubstake of supplies, food. Get setup for another season. Good life."

"Wow. Quiet, peaceful, no neighbors to bitch at ya."

Yes, only one crazy woman raised by bears."

"She really raised by bears?"

"Wolf not know, only that she plenty wild. Never taught human ways. Only Mose her friend."

# 15 Just Fishin'

The next morning Wolf and I pack up our camp and hit the spirit animal trail.

"Look," says Wolf.

I move my eyes out to where Wolf is looking.

"Bitch," I say. Our spirit dog has joined us.

"Good omen," says Wolf.

"Hey, girl," I say happily.

Wolf and I dismount. I reach down to pet her as she sidles up to me, wagging her tail. Then she lays down, offers her belly and Wolf pets it.

"Good dog," he says.

After the reunion Wolf and I mount up. Bitch trots along behind.

"There," Wolf says. He points with his chin toward a big cottonwood tree.

I stop my horse while I look over and scan the branches with my eyes. Bitch is next to us looking at the tree also.

"Yeah, I see something moving," I say. "But wait, those are bears."

"Two cubs, one girl," says Wolf.

"Oh shit, yeah, I see her. Wow, she's agile. Look at them climb."

"Mm-hm."

"Maybe she really was raised by bears," I say.

"Who know? She not talk," says Wolf. "So, we make up story. Not act like raised by human, but could be raised by wolves instead."

"Hey, is she white enough to be a spirit human?"

Wolf laughs and says, "Maybe, after bath."

"Shall we rope her and clean her up?" I say, joking.

"Crazy Annie. Mose not like us roping his partner," says Wolf.

After a minute, he adds wryly, "To be spirit human she need white skin, white hair. Eyes not matter. Just like animals."

"Maybe Mose would thank us. She must be rank."

"Trapper like rank, they catch skunk," says Wolf. "Next time we see Mose, we ask. Wolf never hear of spirit human before."

"High time then."

"Mm," Wolf says, nodding his head pensively. "Human, but wild, untamed."

"Unspoiled by all the crap that we know of in the universe."

"Yes, essence of humankind," he adds.

A few miles have passed under our horses' hooves when Wolf says quietly, "Not look back."

"Why?"

"Our spirit woman follows."

"So, she is a spirit woman?"

"We see. Bitch not worried, good sign."

I sneak a peek back. "Holy cow, Bitch is walking with her. Her tail is wagging. She passed our spirit dog's test."

"Uh huh." Wolf is holding his medicine bag.

I am fairly sure that he is consulting his own spirits. I hold my tongue so he can.

Our journey takes us across hill and dale. We also go over a river and through some woods. When we get to the far edge of the woods there is a nice little babbling brook. It is close enough to the trees that we will have plenty of firewood.

I am trailing along behind the packhorses and Wolf is leading them.

I yell, "Hey, Wolf."

He looks back inquiringly.

"Gettin' near sunset. What say we make camp?"

He nods, looks about, walks his horse over to a likely tree and starts catching up the pack animals. I grab one, too, and ride over to join him.

As we are unsaddling, I ask, "Ain't seen the Shaz lately. You?"

"She and Bitch upstream a bit, fishin'."

How she do that? I didn't see a pack."

"Shaz survivor. Likely have line and hook in pocket."

"Be somethin' if we could get her talkin'. Hear the whole story. Damn."

Wolf looks over his shoulder as he pulls a latigo through the dee rings and says, "First, get her to come to fire."

"How we do thet?"

"Like Bitch. Take time. Also like this white horse here was wild Rock horse, Wolf not catch, Wolf wait, practice patience. With time him come to Wolf."

"Okay, we kin wait," I say, agreeably.

By the time we get the lean-to built and a nice bed of coals for cooking, there is a pretty good nip in the air.

"This wind blowin' up a storm you think?"

"Mm, winter sneak up on us," says Wolf as he wraps a blanket around his shoulders.

I pull my hat down lower so it doesn't blow off and continue searching my saddlebags for my gloves and scarf.

"Real contrast to our nice sunny day," I say as I pull the gloves on. My hands are grateful.

There are six nice trout laying on a rock by the fire. Already cleaned. We thread them on sticks and poke the sticks in the ground so that the fish hang out over the coals to roast. We pour up coffee and add a bit of frostbite medicine. Bitch has come over to the other side of the fire. Not too close, as she has a mighty thick fur coat built in.

Wolf throws her four fish fillets, which she picks up and carries under a nearby tree.

"See?" says Wolf.

I look over at Bitch.

"I'll be damned. Never saw no dog share a meal."

Bitch holds the fish fillets up. We can see hands come out from behind the tree trunk. Shaz takes them, goes over to the crick and washes the dirt off. They go back and sit under the tree to eat together.

The next morning after a three-log night, I open my eyes to see what my nose has detected. There is a deer haunch cooking over the coals. Shaz is not in evidence.

I look over at Wolf. He is still wrapped in his soogans, smiling at me.

"Did I sleep through yore whole deer hunt, and the butcherin' and also the cookin'? And then you went back to bed?"

"Wolf not hunt. Wolf sleep."

"Shaz hunted it?" I ask.

Wolf nods.

"I like that girl."

We get up and kick our way through the light fall of snow to perform our morning ablutions at the crick. By then, the coffee is boiling. We drink and eat. Soon our bellies are full of venison.

"Plenty meat. Wolf planned to put girl on horse today. No room now. Deer meat ride horse."

"We can take turns walkin'. If'n she'll ride a horse."

Wolf nods.

Suddenly Shaz comes running up to the fire. She is buck naked and dripping wet.

Wolf stands up and holds a blanket out to her. She shies back.

"Whoa now girl," he says. "Blanket make you warm."

He takes a couple of steps and sets the blanket on a rock, then turns back to resume his seat by me.

We turn toward each other and talk quietly, careful to avoid looking at Shaz.

"Might be time to turn back. If'n this weather sets up bad, we could get snowed in out here," I say.

"We saddle up, see how sky look," says Wolf.

We decide to have more coffee while we wait for Shaz to dry off. I get up to pour it and once again, Shaz looks ready to head for the trees. I shrug and pour a cup for her, too.

Wolf sets the cup on the blanket rock for her. Then, he sits back down. Smaller people are less scary. She walks warily over and picks up the cup. When she gets directly across the fire, opposite us, she relaxes some and sips the hot liquid.

Wolf says, "Mose feed you."

She looks up, apparently at the sound of Mose' name.

Wolf starts again, "Mose feed you coffee at camp?"

Her eyes are huge.

"Mose good man, partner to you. Wolf not speak like Mose, different sounds but same words. In time, Shaz understand."

Shaz blinks at the sound of her name. Then she nods.

"Progress," I whisper.

After several more one-sided speeches on Wolf's part, Shaz is lookin' dry. She wanders over under her tree and suits up in her bear woman clothes. No doubt they are hand tailored by her and Mose.

In the meantime, I have caught up the horses and saddled most of them. Wolf comes over to help me finish. After one last check of the hitches and cinches, we mount up.

Wolf looks at me and says, "You head back the way we came."

So I do.

Soon, he hoots. I Iook back and can see Shaz out in the opening beyond Wolf. Shaz is headed the other way .

So I turn back, too. As I jog up beside Wolf, he says, "We follow girl. She lead us to spirit buffalo."

"Maybe she is just headed out on walkabout."

"Mnh," says Wolf. "Walkabout just what Wolf and Annie need. Plus odds in Wolf favor."

"Odds?" I ask

"Two girl, one Wolf," he says and grins.

# 16 Bear

Wolf is saying, "Spirit Quest or walkabout. Same."

"Same?" I ask.

"Yes, search for self, meaning of life. Not really search for any one thing. Like journey, destination not important. Quest, walkabout, journey, all good for soul."

"Well, my soul is cold, hope them clouds burn off," I say.

"You walk. Warm up."

"Good idea, get the blood flowin'." I dismount and yell, "Shaz, wanna ride?" I wave the reins at her. She looks wide-eyed again, like she might run off.

Wolf says, "Whoa there, Annie girl, too soon."

"Yeah, I noticed. Guess I just got excitable there fer a sec."

I like the idea of walking though, so I take the bridle off of Joe and hang it on the saddle horn. I tie it down tight with the saddle strings, so Joe don't step on it or lose it in the brush.

Wolf studies me a minute, then says, "Good. Walking girl less scary. You go ahead of horses."

I head out, behind Shaz and Bitch, but ahead of Wolf and all the horses. Shaz looks back and I quickly look at the ground. After a mile or so, I look back at Wolf and say, "This is much better. I feel warmer already."

Shaz turns forward and continues walking as if she has a destination in mind. I keep my own counsel about my confusion between journeys and destinations. I mean traveling in a space ship is a journey too, right? Maybe it's not old timey enough for Wolf's ancient Injin spirits. I nod to myself. Sounds half reasonable.

Bitch circles back and walks alongside me.

We cover many a mile before coming to another crick where we all squat to drink. As I wipe my lips, I see Shaz looking at me. I reach over and pet Bitch, who rolls onto her back for a belly rub.

"Bitch really likes this," I say, pointedly not looking at Shaz.

Shaz reaches out to touch Bitch's hind foot, which is the farthest part of the bitch from me.

Wolf rides up. He waters himself and his horse on the opposite side of me, leaving we three females to a quiet moment of communion.

Later, Wolf brings some jerky over and hands it to me. I hold a piece out to Shaz. She doesn't move her feet, but leans over and reaches as far as she can. Her fingertips just barely get a hold on the jerky, then she jumps back with it. She and Bitch gobble it down like starving bears.

Wolf and I fill our canteens, he mounts up and we are off again. No words are spoken.

A few hours later, I am thinking about how I can ride for weeks on end. No problem. However, I am totally out of shape for walking. A high melodic sound reaches my ears. Wolf is singing in a tremulous falsetto.

The song helps clear my mind and fill the hours of our journey.

Shaz occasionally glances back at Wolf. I like to think she is enjoying the concert. She looks relaxed and calm now.

I drop back to walk beside Wolf's horse.

"Yore song is soothin' the savage beast," I say.

Wolf nods knowingly. Of course he already knew that. The man is powerful versed in life.

"You know Wolf," I say. "Back in town when you first proposed this odyssey, I was a mite skeptical of the entire enterprise. I thought I was a spontaneous person. But in fact, I suppose I sounded just like them city Injins you mentioned. 'Got chores, got bills.' Stuck in my groove kinda things. But now, fuck it, damned if you aren't right. It feels like we are going nowhere in particular. Just venturesome folk. And heck, we got Shaz and Bitch fer entertainment. Hells bells, maybe the journey is the destination."

Wolf smiles his shit-eatin' grin, very similar to Spud's in fact, and says, "Annie, Wolf make Injin of you yet."

Shaz is drawing ahead, so we move out to catch up. As we draw near, I can hear her quietly humming.

I look at Wolf, his eyes are gleaming with pride.

So, we are a plucky bunch. A' Injin, a cowgirl, a bear girl, a white bitch and seven horses. Together, explorin' a planet.

# 17 New Country

We have been trending uphill all afternoon. Shaz, who is as always out in the lead, stops. Then she sits. Bitch sits beside her. I wonder if this is to be our camp. Wolf jogs up beside me and we move along the trail side by side to join Shaz and Bitch on the ridge.

"Ah, ha, ha ho," sings Wolf.

I am awestruck. The valley spread out below us is teeming with life. I see, um...

"What are those things over there, Wolf?" I ask, pointing.

"Pronghorn antelope," he says. "Common name, not really antelope.

Then, an actual wolf trots out of a swale, spooking the pronghorn. As they run, their white rumps flash in the sun.

"Whoa," I say. "They got shiny white butts."

They turn toward the lowering sun. I look off to the south and see the buffalo.

"Wow, look at the buff," I say. "Must be a jillion."

It is a huge herd spread all along the base of some hills. I can see a wolf pack walking around the edges of the herd, looking for opportunity.

Wolf points with his chin and says, "Bear. Grizzly bear like eat buff meat, too."

Shaz points also, off to the left of the main herd and says, "Unh."

We look and look more, not sure what she sees.

Finally, Wolf says, "Mm-hm."

He turns to me and says, "Annie, look."

I squint and scan. I see many things but I still don't see.

Wolf stands behind me and puts an arm over my shoulder, pointing. I look down the length of his arm.

"There," he says. "In small bunch by that draw. Where green trees are tall."

"I don't see any...Oh! I do."

"Spirit buffalo," says Wolf, proudly.

I am floored. We watch for a while, then Shaz stands up and starts marching. We happily follow.

"How the hell did she do it?" I ask. "She is amazing."

"She is spirit," says Wolf wonderingly.

"Spirit girl?"

Wolf nods.

"We camp there," says Wolf, pointing with his chin.

"I thought we were following Shaz," I say. Then I look around. "Where is Shaz?"

Wolf looks back over his shoulder. "Headed back to Mose' place. See?"

"Oh. Are we supposed to follow her?"

"Why? Spirit Buffalo ahead, not behind. She come to show us buffalo. This our quest, not hers. She only spirit guide. A true spirit human."

"Hm," I say, contemplating it all.

"Now we go see buff up close."

"The buffalo will leave before we get close."

"We will see, Annie."

I go back and grab Joe, put the bridle back on and ease into my comfortable saddle.

"Ahhh," I say. "Let the rock and roll begin."

Wolf chuckles at my relief and then squeezes his mount with his calves. Off down the hill we go to see the spirit buffalo up close. The comfy rhythm of my horse's gait fills me with joy. My leg muscles may yet survive the day.

"Yeah, it'll be interesting to see how close we can get. Looks like a good campsite in any case," I say. "Shaz gonna be alright alone?"

"Bear girl? Ha ha," says Wolf.

We arrive at the crick just as the light is fading. It is a beautiful vale. The crick is burbling a merry tune over bright white rocks. As we pull our horses up and dismount, one of the larger rocks starts walking away.

"Holy shit," I whisper, "Do you see him?"

"Mm-hm."

We watch silently as the white buffalo slowly walks off, stopping to graze here and there. Maybe ten minutes later he has gone almost out of sight. He is a mere light spot in the increasing darkness.

"Damn. He was, like, right here. How awesome."

"This feel spiritual to Annie?"

"Oh fuck yeah, I am out of breath, in awe and totally blown away all at the same time."

Wolf grins 'til it looks like his cheeks will split, then says, "Annie good student."

"Oh Wolf," I grab him for a giant bear hug and kiss. This gets our engines started.

# 18 In the Buff

Next morning I open my eyes to see Mr. Griz pushing his nose into the ashes of our fire. He jumps back after finding a hot coal with his snout, and trots off down the crick.

"If it weren't tender before, it will be now," I say.

"Um-hm," he says. "Wolf great lover."

"Not you, Mr. Griz' just burnt his nose."

Wolf smiles and says, "Likely story."

I jump up and lay my rifle on a rock near the fire in case he circles back. Then I put the coffee on and start the rashers. Mr. Griz is still in sight, sniffing and searching the meadow for roots and grubs. Elaborately making a point of ignoring us, but sneaking a glance and a sniff now and then.

"Bet he would love a few slices of bacon," I say, and nod toward his slowly departing form.

"Him not count. Brown, not white."

"You got spirits on the brain. Anyway, he looks more of a cinnamon to me. Make good stew."

I walk over to the crick for a wash up. As I reach my hands out to splash the cold water on my face, I see an especially bright white rock. I pull it out of the stream.

"Hey Wolf, lookee here."

Wolf walks over, naked.

"Rock."

"Well, yes, but give a gander to this side. See the crystals?"

"Okay. Shiny rock, tiny points."

"See those tiny carpets of crystals? That is called druzy. And the rock is quartz. So we call it druzy quartz," I say.

"White spirit rock."

"Really? Come on, you still got spirit on the brain."

"No," protests Wolf. "Yes, but spirit work that way. Spirit girl lead us to spirit buffalo which lead us to spirit rock maybe." He shrugs and continues, "Spirit Cave made of rock. After breakfast we scout around."

"Hallo, the camp."

We look up. Spud and Mose are walking in through the trees.

"Brothers," says Wolf as he stands up to give the pair hugs. "What up?"

"It's not good news," says Spud looking downcast. "Soames is back. They caught Painter agin."

"What?" I ask. "How?"

"Dumb kid. He done it agin. Thinkin' with his cock. They swooped in and jumped him in the alley behind his gal's house," says Spud.

"Mm," says Wolf. "Time for permanent solution."

"I'm thinkin'," says Spud.

"Hey," I ask. "How did you get here? I never heard a thing. It's like you beamed in outta nowhere."

"Naw, be nice wouldn't it?" says Spud. "Sky brought me in his puddle jumper. We picked up Mose on the way."

"I'se kin take y'awls stock back to my camp. Y'awl gotta save thet kid agin," says Mose. He touches Wolf on the shoulder and says, "You saw the white buff, brother?"

Wolf nods, preoccupied.

"Hurry?" asks Wolf.

"They was talkin' lynchin' afore we left. Gettin' the town folk riled up, even," says Spud.

"Fuck," I say.

I start out to catch the horses fer packin' 'em up.

"I kin do thet, Annie. Y'awl go get my fav'rite boy," says Mose. "We had a good time them winters him an' I run traps together."

"Thank you, Mose," says Wolf as we leave.

"Be sure to look at them white rocks in the crick, the ones with the druzy crystals," I say over my shoulder.

We run over to the opening where the jumper landed and hop aboard.

"Yo, Sky," says Wolf.

"Wolf, Annie," says Sky, ducking his head, fiddling with knobs and giving her the gas.

"I thought that Rock folk all stuck together," I say as we belt in.

"Most. Especially the country folk. There's some newer folks in town don't know us so well. They especially ain't familiar with Painter, he is a country lovin' boy ain't ever been to town much. That is, 'til he met this gal. Yore basic teenage boy. Thinkin' with his dick," says Spud.

"Arrgghh," says Wolf. "Hard to stay Zen."

"Sorry, but I need snipers."

"Mm-hm, no problem," says Wolf. "Wolf just disappointed in little brother."

I say, "I don't know, I remember bein' a teenager. Got in a scrape or two myself. One of of 'em included Spud here."

Spud grins.

'Sides." I poke Wolf with an elbow. "We found your white buff just in the nick of time."

"Weather closin' in, too," says Spud, peering out the window at the sky. "Don't you think?"

"Yes," says Wolf. "Need to get horses home."

"I kin he'p. Soon's we get Painter freed," says Spud .

"Mm-hm," says Wolf.

Not too much later, we disembark at Sky's landing strip. He has a cute little mortared rock shack there with a 'Sky Air' sign hanging crookedly off the porch overhang. Coati and Kit ride out in front of it leading horses for us. We mount up and head for MadDog.

"Thank you for coming," says Coati.

Spud says, "Any news?"

Coati shakes her head.

"Okay," says Spud distractedly.

Wolf looks over at me and murmurs, "Spud planning. Likely make his head hurt." Then he smiles mischievously.

Eventually, we ride up to a big old timey looking wood barn. It has a hay loft door with a hoist and all the usual fixin's.

Spud dismounts, hands me his reins and says, "Be right back."

He looks through a knothole first, then slips into the barn through a man size door. He opens the big horse and buggy size door from the inside, looks out at us and says, "All clear, bring 'em in."

We ride on into the barn and dismount.

Coati says, "You go, Kit and I will care for the horses."

Kit and Coati step over and gives us each a hug. We head out the side, careful not to be seen, and cross the alley to Charley's log house.

She has been watching for us. She lets us in the knotty pine door, hugs us each and says jokingly, "You come much more often, I'll have to start chargin' rent."

Sir Jacob is waiting in the kitchen with Buzz.

"The Centrists are getting restless," he says.

"Buzz," says Wolf warily.

Buzz responds, "Mr. Wolf."

"Lord," I say. "You two need to get drunk together."

They look dismayed. The rest of us laugh.

"Okay," says Spud, as he puts on his Sheriff's badge. I'll go see what's up."

He looks at me and adds, "I need Bob to join me, soon as he's dressed."

"I suggest you include Buzz, also," says Sir Jacob.

Spud looks skeptical.

"I realize you haven't been acquainted with him long," adds Sir Jacob.

"And fer most of thet time he's been unconscious," I add.

Sir Jacob looks at me and says, "Quite. However, he is invaluable at assessing a situation. Please trust my judgment."

"Wolf can assess," says Wolf.

Jacob looks at Wolf, "Of course my good man, but Buzz has a few different skills. I would also wager that Spud needs you elsewhere."

"Buzz, your health?" asks Spud.

"I have recovered almost fully," says Buzz. "As yet I am unready to run a marathon, but am certainly capable of light surveillance or the occasional sedentary point and shoot battle."

"This yore first day out of bed?"

"No, I have taken light constitutionals three days running now. My strength returns."

"Okay, you walk over to the Sheriff's office with Annie after she changes into Bob. I gotta get," Spud says and heads out the door.

Buzz looks at me, confused, "You have the power to morph?"

"You'll see. I'll be right back," I say. I head into Charley's bedroom to 'Bob' up.

# 19 The Rope

I walk out of Charley's bedroom a man. Bob, to be exact. Buzz looks me up and down.

"Ah," he says. "Merely a disguise."

"Yep," I agree. "No special powers involved. Ready to go?"

"Yes." Buzz stands and we head out the door and walk toward the Sheriff's office.

"Rules can get a tetch murky. We don't mind," I say. In response to his still quizzical look.

"I see," says Buzz.

"If you don't mind my asking, do all Bãngh speak Brit English?" I ask, wondering after the words have left my mouth if Bãngh are short tempered or tetchy in any way. Hell, I got no idee. Shit.

"In point of fact, I was educated at Oxford," says Buzz calmly.

Whew. Still breathin'.

"Oxford?" I ask.

"On Britannia, the 'Brit' planet as you might call it," says Buzz with a friendly smile.

"Oh, it's not called Brit?" I ask, "We always said Brit in my neighborhood."

"And your neighborhood would be where?"

"Triassic."

"Ah. Triassic is an exciting place."

"Yeah, can be."

"Quite," says Buzz.

"You been there?"

"Here, let us sit a moment," says Buzz. He gestures to some chairs on the boardwalk in front of the saloon.

Buzz looks in the door and asks, "Barkeep, my good man, can you deliver two brews to we thirsty souls?"

"I am surely thirsty, been a long day already," I say.

We settle down and stretch out our legs. The beer arrives quickly. The Sheriff's is just across the street and down a few doors. We have a pretty good view of it. We keep a weather eye out for Centrists, general unrest and any lynching activity.

"I did research on Triassic about the evolution of the archosaurs, sinosauropteryx, caudipteryx; that lot, into the modern chicken. I was studying them for my dissertation.

"In the end, I did complete a study, but on a different species. I was somewhat taken aback by the commanding strength of the Hawthorne Effect, which we try to avoid by Naturalistic Observation. That is, observing our subjects without interacting or attempting to influence their behavior."

"The Hawthorne...what?"

"Hawthorne Effect, often confused with the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. In fact it is the Hawthorne, often called the Observer, Effect which states that whatever you study, you also change."

"Oh, yeah," I say slowly, letting the idea sink in. "I experienced a bit of that myself on Triassic."

"It was devastating what happened to you," says Buzz sadly.

"Me? How would you know about me?"

"You were the creatures I studied in the end: unsophisticated human beings."

"What?"

"I was there when the dinosaurs learnt to fly across oceans, my original course of study, you see. They discovered, in flying longer and longer distances, that there were other continents beyond their shores."

"Okay."

"It happened many millennia faster than it had originally on ancient Earth. At light speed, I would imagine, in comparison. The next step in the process was the meeting of the flying dinosaurs with the agrarian humans. Before this crossroads, we scientists had studied the dinosaurs from afar in order to avoid Hawthorne as much as possible. Of course, once the dinosaurs flew to the agrarian continent, filled with tasty and relatively tame livestock, things happened, as you know, even more quickly. It was a massacre."

"We tried not to hurt them, at first."

"Oh no, my dear, you misunderstand. A human massacre."

"Oh. Yeah. No shit. We lost so many friends and neighbors, family too." I shake my head and tear up at the memory.

"We scientists sat back and watched. Felt we needed to be objective. But, in the end, the agriculturists were being slaughtered," says Buzz shaking his head sadly. "I was outraged. And I am not even considered to be human. Why should I care? But to watch humankind be slaughtered? I may never understand why many of the observers did not go to your aid. Many got nervous enough that they caught the first ship out, saving their own skins. Collegians, not warriors, I suppose. Some of us, though, banded together and joined in to help the farmers and ranchers. We couldn't let you all die without at least attempting to assist."

"Not unusual fer scientists with all their special knowledge to think of theirselves as different. To consider themselves to be neutral observers. Sometimes we agrarians feel like a separate species ourselves, maybe they feel we are also," I say.

Buzz nods. We ponder on that a bit.

"But you said me, how did? I mean, did you mean, me myself? I was not much more than a kid," I ask.

"Spud mentioned you were from Triassic, so I asked your family name. Not that many families there then. Less now. The Rockefeller's were actually one of a dozen in my study. I observed some of the struggles. I actually met your father. A good man," says Buzz.

"Oh, I say, floored. "Yes, he was."

"I fought beside him."

"You fought with my dad?"

"Yes, unable to remain objective, as I said. Nevertheless, as you also found, it was a losing battle. In the end, I went back to Britannia."

"In the end, leaving was the only way."

"Yes, I am glad that you and I both made it."

"Me, too. Small cosmos, eh?"

"Verily, it is."

We drain our mugs and set off companionably for the Sheriff's office.

# 20 The Noose

Spud looks up as we saunter in.

"Howdy boys. Hell, Buzz and Bob, you make good lookin' cowboys," he remarks. "Here, I'll get badges, swear ya in."

He reaches into a drawer and pulls out two shiny silver and brass badges. Cool.

Buzz grins and looks at me, "Actually, I have been a cowboy before."

"Yeah," I add smiling, "Not his first rodeo."

"Yo, Bob," Spud says. "New mustache, um, trim?"

"Ha ha," I say. "I kinda like a handlebar."

I walk over to the mirror and admire my mustachioed masculine self.

"Gonna grow sideburns next," I say.

They forget to chuckle. I thought it was hilarious.

"Welp, we're just here waitin' on their next move," says Spud tapping his fingers on the desktop.

"Painter here?" I ask.

"He is."

"Why not just take him home with us?"

"Remember what Wolf said?"

"Um?" I say.

"We need a permanent solution," says Spud.

"Ah. Okay," I say.

"We shall follow your lead, Marshall," says Buzz.

"See?" says Spud, turning to smile at me. He points at the 'Marshall' sign on the desk. "Buzz read Tindall's sign."

Buzz looks askance at me.

"Spud is referring to the fact that he is the sheriff," I say. "This is, according to the sign out front, the 'Sheriff's Office'. But, when Tindall made the sign for the sheriff's desk, he put 'Marshall'."

"Tindall is a mite quirky," says Spud. "But he's got a good heart."

"Ah, I see," says Buzz.

Spud pulls two deputy badges out of his desk and we get them pinned on.

"Bob," he asks, "you'll do what I say?"

"Maybe," I answer, flippantly.

"Close enough. Buzz, you already said it. So by the power vested in me by pretty much nobody, you are now sworn in as my deputies. Loyal to me and mine," says Spud. "No religious stuff needed."

"What next?" I ask.

"Buzz, kin you go in the back and just look around?" asks Spud. "See if we need to station another hand back there. Sir Jacob is outside the alley door. Don't sneak up on his Lordship. He may have a' itchy trigger finger."

Buzz smiles and heads through the cellblock door.

"Now, Bob, you scout back over toward the saloon and get us a big pitcher and mugs. Keep yore eyes peeled."

I start toward the door.

Spud says, "Hey, stop walkin' like a girl."

I man up, adjust my imaginary cojones, er, balls and head for the Short Branch. I order the pitcher and all. And then I head into the, whoops, Mens, almost went in the Ladies. The Mens room is empty, so I check myself in the mirror. I grab my jeans and adjust the equipment again. Crap, as I feared, I can see no visible equipment bulge at all. Next time I won't forget to stuff a sock in there. I wad up some TP and jam it in. Then, I jiggle my gun belt. I have to stuff my hand down there and adjust it a bit more and blammo. Bob has a big 'un. I name him: 'Larry the Extraordinary' on the spot.

I pick up the beer tray and head down to join the boys, correction, other boys.

After we all wet our whistles with a mug of good brew, Spud and I go into the cellblock. We join Painter in the cell, which is unlocked, and set down to wait.

"Painter, you need to move yore girl out of town," I say.

Painter turns so red that it shows up even on his brown cheeks.

Spud and I stifle our laughs.

"She ain't my girl yet, Annie. Just courtin'," he says. Just a shy country boy.

Spud and I sip our beer, no doubt both remembering our own youthful crushes. Oh yeah, I was Spud's first fulfilled crush. Likely one of many, he is no slouch when it comes to the ladies, I hear.

Sir Jacob walks in and asks, "Have you a prognosis for today's activities?"

Spud says, "No, ain't seen any activity so far, you got any ideas?"

We hear a noise out front. Everyone reaches for a firearm. Sir Jacob walks over and looks through the cellblock door.

"Charley," he says.

We relax.

Charley walks in and says, "Dinner, brought it early. Soames and friends just ordered dinner at the bar. I figured you'd want to finish eating before they did. Theirs will take another half hour to serve up. Cookie's taking an extra-long smoke break just for us."

"Extry-long? Good. How many men with Soames?" asks Spud.

"Six. Anything else you need? I better get back."

"We're good. Thanks Charley."

We are stuffing our guts when Wolf walks in the back.

"Noose hanging in cottonwood tree other end of town," he says.

Spud looks up from his plate and asks, "How many?"

"One guy was there. He go to bar just now."

"How's the coverage?"

"Good," says Wolf.

"Eat," says Spud. He passes Wolf the last plate.

We finish up our meal.

# 21 The Branch

"That branch strong enough to hold?" I ask, looking up at it.

"Wolf think so," says Wolf.

"Spud got a plan?"

"Wolf hope."

"You know what it is?"

Wolf looks over at me and says, "No."

"Okay, I say, and glance around searching for a good spot. "I'll be over there."

Wolf and I set up in high perches in the trees on different sides of the hanging tree itself. Not directly opposite, as we don't want to shoot each other. But close enough to it that we each have a good line of sight to the action and far enough away that we won't be spotted.

We sit still and wait. Note to self, crotch of tree, not so comfy. People start trickling in as the appointed time approaches.

Eventually, I can see a crowd coming around the corner from Main Street. I look through my scope and can just make out Painter. He has a guy on each side holding his arms. His hands are tied behind his back. Painter is struggling and stumbling along, keeping guys with him too busy to do much other than keep hold.

As they get closer, I can see Spud and Soames walking together and talking.

That's three bad guys. I start scanning rooftops. I see one on the roof of the bank, another on the mercantile. Shit, are there six or seven total? Did Charley's count include the guy that Wolf saw? Do they have more friends? I look over at Wolf who is totally at ease in his tree. Not a worry in the world. Watchful though. I could learn a thing or two from him.

A little crowd is forming near the tree. Lynch heads. Noose heads? Maybe just vultures waiting to dine on carrion. Are any of them Soames people? Dang. It seemed easy in theory. Good guys and bad guys all look alike.

Sir Jacob and Buzz show up next. They go through the crowd, relaxed, Sir Jacob smiling at friends, just walking. Jacob says a word now and then to folks. Then they stand between the crowd and the tree and look official. Michael walks up with a horse for Painter. Oh, it's Bogey.

"Dang, don't nobody shoot that horse," I whisper to myself. I say a quick prayer to the spirits.

Bogey is a good choice though. Calm, collected, not gun shy.

The two guys holdin', actually, they are draggin' Painter now. They pull him over to Bogey who, uncharacteristically, is dancing away from them. Bogey don't like strangers, I guess. Michael, looking macho in a red wig and bushy red beard, is holding Bogey's head and speaking soothingly to him.

Spud is still deep in conversation with Soames, keeping his attention. They walk over toward Bogey. Michael's bearing and makeup are not at all like Don Miguel, who Soames knows intimately. He consults with Soames while Spud puts the noose and then a feedbag over Painter's head.

The two dragger's boost Painter up into the saddle. Painter quits struggling. He sure as hell doesn't want Bogey to take off out from under him.

One guy holds onto Painter's leg while the other ties off the hanging rope at the appropriate length.

Spud and Soames walk over and inspect the knot and tension. Spud pulls and double checks it.

Buzz and Jacob are now standing by Soames' two guys.

I lay down my scope and settle in. Michael raises a hand ready to slap the horse and set him off running. He looks at Spud who, after a moment, nods.

Instead of a slap, Michael jumps onto Bogey's ass, just after Wolf's arrow cuts the rope. Michael kicks and Bogey takes off at a dead run. My arrow takes Soames just as Wolf shoots the guy on the bank roof. I quickly pull another from my quiver and nock it into place. I turn slightly, aim, and loose the bowstring. The mercantile guy drops his rifle and falls over.

I turn to shoot the two draggers, but they are dead, twitching on the ground as are two spectators. Buzz is surreptitiously wiping a knife blade on his pants. Sir Jacob is checking for blink response to be sure that one is dead.

Spud walks around inspecting bodies and finally looks up at me in my tree and mouths, "Okay."

Wolf and I climb down and walk over to check on Painter. Michael is just reining Bogey back to the cottonwood.

"Slick as shit," Michael says and smiles.

We catch Painter as he slides off of Bogey, still blindfolded.

Painter slides down to the ground, played out from the tension. I untie his hands and Wolf takes the bag off his head and then the noose. There is a clamp on the noose just below the knot.

"So it can't tighten?" I ask Wolf.

"Yes, but fall could still break neck."

Painter blanches at that.

Wolf looks at him and says, "Not likely falling from horse. From scaffold, yes."

Spud says, "Michael had two jobs. Guide the horse if Wolf's arrow cut the rope. Catch Painter, if the arrow missed. Keep his neck from gettin' stretched."

"Phew." I say, my hands are still shaking. "How did Buzz and Sir Jacob know who was who in the crowd?"

"Most of the crowd was friends of ours that Charley recruited. So that narrowed it down," says Spud. "Sir Jacob said we had Buzz for backup. So maybe he knew something. He an' Jacob knifed them guys right slick."

"Hey," says Wolf straightening up from examining another dead body. "These the two guys who ambush us and Ginger when we deliver cows."

"Centrist spies?" asks Spud.

"Mm-hm," says Wolf.

Michael says, "Good riddance to bad blood."

Then Spud turns to Wolf and I. He says, "Good shootin', you two Injins."

Wolf nods, with a why would he shoot any less than the best expression. Modest, eh? Naw, proud of doing a good job.

"Hell, I learned it in 4H. Planet champion one year. Not a lot of kids there, but still," I admit. "Now, explain to me, why couldn't we use bullets?"

"Noise. Not all the townfolk who stayed in their houses, would agree with killin' off the Centrist fuzz. They fear reprisals. We need to get the bodies out quietly and Painter," he looks meaningfully at his little brother, "needs to stay out of town fer a long, long time."

Painter, at least, looks embarrassed.

Sir Jacob appears round the corner with the Periwinkle, his specialized laboratory on wheels, and they start loading bodies.

"You reckon he'll want to chop into them for examination?" I ask.

Spud nods and agrees, "You bet."

Wolf and I head to the rooftops to toss those two bodies down. Then we clamber back down and the bunch of us quickly get the last of the dead bodies loaded.

"Hey, sometimes I think I've gone crazy and just don't know it yet. Or maybe my eyes deceive me. Why do I count only six?" I ask.

Wolf looks at me, counting in his head, then says, "Was seven."

"Son of a bitch," I say.

Sir Jacob is checking over the harness in preparation for departure.

He looks at us, concerned, and asks. "Bloody hell, is Soames in there?"

Wolf and I are already up in the wagon moving bodies, so we can identify them all.

"Bank roof, merc roof, crowd, dragger, other dragger, crowd and no Soames," I say.

Wolf grunts and agrees, "No Soames."

"Didn't no one check his pulse?" I look around at the crew.

We all look at each other and shrug.

"Shit. So much fer my arrow. Must of missed the kill shot," I say. "Damn it, there's days when if I didn't have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all.

"He was bleedin' good right away," says Spud. "Dayum. Hell, it weren't a' easy shot darlin'."

He throws a comforting arm around my shoulders.

We throw a tarp over the six kilt guys for good luck. Also, to hide the cargo from prying eyes. We are still shaking our heads over missing Soames escape.

I echo the sentiment of all when I say, "How did we all turn our heads and miss that bastard sneakin' off? Son of a bitch!"

We walk up to the front of the team to say goodbye to Sir Jacob.

He looks up from tightening a breeching and says, "I have a bit of work ahead of me here. Anyone care to join?"

"Gladly," says Michael, stepping over. "Might learn some anatomy."

The rest of us shudder at the thought of chopping up dead bodies.

"Painter need ride home. You take him?" asks Wolf.

"Certainly," says Sir Jacob.

Painter climbs up into the wagon seat next to Michael and his Lordship.

"Keep an eye out fer Soames, maybe he got lucky and my arrow missed any important organs. Fuck. All he had to do was lay still and look dead until we all turned our backs. Cocksucker," I say.

"Shit happens. We will be careful, sweetie," says Michael.

"I will ensure that Painter and Kit are armed and watchful," says Sir Jacob. "I expect Coati will go out to help them as much as she can. And surely, Painter will stay by the flocks where the guardian dogs can warn and protect him. Yes?" He looks at Painter.

"Yes, sir. Thank you all for savin' my bacon. I truly have learnt my lesson this time," says Painter, looking around at us all sheepishly.

We all remain skeptical, being young enough to remember the raging hormones of a fifteen year old. Alas, what can we do?

"All in a day's work, little brother," says Spud.

"I must disagree," says Buzz. He walks over and reaches up to lay a hand on Painter's knee. "Your family and friends here, young man, have gone to extraordinary measures to save you, twice. It is imperative that you refrain from this careless behavior in future."

"Yes, sir," Painter says, chagrined. He looks around at all of us. "Buzz is right. Thank you all again."

"You are welcome, brother. Stay with flock. Wolf got horses to get from T'ree Forks."

"Me, too," I say.

"I wonder, as I have not been on this planet before, would there be any possibility of my being able to assist with said retrieval?" asks Buzz.

"No place for greenhorn," says Wolf.

"Buzz is no greenhorn, Wolf, he can ride and shoot with the best," says Sir Jacob.

"Then, Buzz, join us," says Wolf. "Welcome."

We all look at Spud.

"Secret sheriff business needs doin'," he says, smiling. "Just take a mite of time over at the office."

"Wolf track Soames now," Wolf says and walks off.

"I shall assist," says Buzz heading off in the other direction.

Sir Jacob, Michael and Painter wave as they head out toward Spud's place.

"Long day," I say as Spud and I walk together toward the Sheriff's office.

We go in and he looks around the office. I go in the cellblock and out the back to check the alley and general area for blood or tracks. When I get back, skunked, Spud is busy. He straightens a few things, looks through some papers and such and, eventually, looks relieved.

"Take a chair, we'll wait here fer our scouts," he says sitting himself down. He pushes some stuff aside to rest his elbows on the desk, knocking over a stack of papers in the process. He looks at them as them spill out on the floor and makes a face.

"Gawds, I hate paperwork," he says as he leans back and put his boots up on the blotter.

We sit idly, winding down from the action, letting the adrenaline slowly drain from our bloodstreams. Spud looks mighty official leaning back in the chair with his boots up on the corner of the desk. Got his hat pulled down and has that shit eating grin on his face while he looks directly at me. Oh my.

Buzz shows up. Then Wolf right after. Both look downcast.

"No luck?" asks Spud.

Wolf reports, "Wolf see crawl marks where him fall, a little blood but blood stop. Footprints for a bit, him must have jumped on horse, too many horse tracks to tell where he went."

"We saved Painter, got rid of six bad guys, not a bad days work," says Spud from the sheriff's chair.

"Soames slip through fingers," says Wolf disconsolately.

"Other than that small detail, everything looks shipshape here," Spud says. "Let's go get our steeds and git home."

He stands up and steps over the spilled papers, ignoring them.

"Yay, hot spring baths. We can wash off the trail dirt," I say.

"Tomorrow, go back to T'ree Forks, get our string," says Wolf.

"Then do we come back or go to that spirit rock place?" I ask.

"Weather, ma nature, decide," says Wolf.

"Maybe Spud should go along to keep you two out of trouble," says, er, Spud with a smile.

I groan and say, "Good gawds, now yore talkin' about yore own self in third person, just like Wolf."

"Get used to it," says Spud. "If I go on the Spirit Quest, I might turn Injin, too."

We laugh at that.

Buzz appears to be having second thoughts.

"Buzz," I ask. "You ever been to a hot springs?"

"Never had any desire to be boiled alive," he replies.

"You just might like mine, it's not boilin'," says Spud. "Hells bells, do you folks bathe or swim? If you'll pardon my askin'."

Buzz laughs and says cryptically, "Rather."

Okay, is that yes or no? Where do folks come up with this murky fuckin' lingo? I reckon I'll find out when we get there. Do aliens bathe or not? Another of the great unsolved mysteries of the Universe seems about to unfold.

# 22 Quench

We head over to the big barn and retrieve our rides. Coati and Kit's horses are already gone. We gather up the rest and head for Spud's place.

Buzz gets to ride Bogey, the almost-a-lynching horse. I watch Buzz closely and see that he takes all the usual precautions to ensure he ain't killed in a maladjusted tack wreck. Happens all too often.

He does it right, checking and adjusting the cinch. He looks over the bridle fit. He gathers his reins with one hand and the horn with the other and hops aboard. He doesn't need the stirrup, and he keeps the horse in check like a pro.

We ride side by side behind Spud and Wolf, who are deep in conversation. After warming the horses for a ways at the walk, they jump up into a jog. Buzz passes the test there, too. Man, or Bãngh, has a natural seat.

"Where'd you learn to ride Buzz?" I ask.

"Bãngh," he says.

"Oh, I should call you Bãngh?"

"No, sorry, Bãngh is the name of my people. We who are from the planet Bãngh."

"Oh. You have horses there?"

"Of a sort, yes. We learn to ride as early as we learn to walk," he says. "In fact, I have been watching. You also ride like a Bãngh."

"Oh, is that a compliment?"

"Few in all the Cosmos ride as well as Bãngh, in fact. You, I think, have the potential to be a fine rider."

"Thank you, I have ridden long enough to have discovered that learnin' to ride is a lifelong endeavor."

"Yes, there is always the potential to improve. Always a new horse, each is different."

"You said somethin' the other day that surprised me. Well, several things in fact, since yore my first alien."

Buzz laughs and says, "I like that, 'your first alien'. Jolly good show."

"Oh, well we ain't had sex, but yore the first alien I have met. Far as I know." Oh jeez, do Bãngh even have sex? Or sex organs? Me an' my big mouth. My foot in mouth disease has come to the forefront once again.

Buzz looks at me, waiting patiently.

"Anyhow, the thing that I am referrin' to now is that maybe instead of you lookin' human, maybe we look Bãngh ?"

"Yes." Buzz says. "Would you have ever thought of that?"

"Well. No, but in my defense. All I ever saw was humankind. As far as I know."

"True. You see, when I was first sent to Britannia I thought the same. Of course, it was from my perspective. I thought humans looked remarkably similar to Bãngh. Except you are, in general, shorter. You and your comrades are the exception of course, being almost as tall as Bãngh."

"You mean Bãngh are taller than me? If I went to Bãngh I would find a slew of men who would date me ?"

I look over at Buzz, he is laughing.

"My apologies," he says. "I have unintentionally mislead you. On Bãngh, the women are taller. You may need to find a short Bãngh to instill interest."

"Jest cowgirl luck, kickin' me in the ass. Again." I say disgruntled. Then I look over at Buzz. "Hey, yore not just pullin' my leg are you?"

"Oh dear, one wouldn't want to injure a limb," says Buzz, laughing. "But, in fact, I was just joking, or joshing as you say. Bãngh men also like to be taller than their mates. Perhaps you would fit in well there."

"Cool."

After a while, we pull up at the corral, unsaddle and feed. Then we head straight for the hot pool.

"Last one in is a heathen redskin," I yell as I run and try to strip down all at once.

Spud and Wolf both pass me. They dive in just as I arrive. Ooh doggies, sure glad I didn't miss that manly, muscular display.

I run through a fine fantasy in my head. Then I jump in, too.

After a full body dip and a little lap, I head over to my favorite rock. Spud has a bottle of spirits to pass around. Oh yeah.

Then I realize Buzz is still standing on shore.

"Problem, Buzz?" I ask.

Spud steps out of the water and speaks to Buzz for a minute. They walk off a ways conferring quietly. Then they head back toward the house.

Wolf comes over and plants a nice kiss on my lips.

"Them aliens must be shy," I say.

"Spud and Wolf toss coin."

Light bulb!

"Ooh," I say and kiss back.

Much later, Wolf heads for his teepee and I go into Spud's log house.

"Ever'thing work out?" Spud asks.

"It all came out fine in the end," I reply.

"You are a good woman to take care of my ugly brother like that."

"It is a large sacrifice," I say with a straight face, then break out laughing. I am no good at lying. In this case, anyway. Wolf is too damn handsome to describe adequately in words.

The I ask, "Where's Buzz?"

"He was plumb tuckered. Went to bed."

"Me too. You ready?"

"Yep."

We head up to Spud's comfy bed, fit fer royalty. Beats the dickens out of the hard ground I have been sleepin' on. Funny, we don't go to sleep right away. Things get recreational for a bit. But that there is private.

# 23 Worlds

Next morning, after a quick hot bath, we suit up and get ready to head back to T'ree Forks.

Having once again cleared the planet of Centrists, Spud has Sky fly his hopper out to the Bar None Ranch to pick us up.

"Breakin' the wilderness rules is gettin' to be a habit," I comment.

Spud takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly, "Fortunately, I only got the one brother who is still a teenager."

"Yeah, that's the end of your problems," I say, "'cause teenage girls never get in trouble."

Spud looks daggers at me and says, "I was tryin' not to think about that 'un. And then there's them two who ain't teenagers yet."

"There's more of you?" I ask.

"Yep, the young'uns are off travelin' with Pa," says Spud.

We are all standing out in the pasture as Sky lands. After a quick hello, we hop aboard.

As we climb to altitude, I notice Buzz looking out the window at the passing ground.

"Now Buzz, if you see any white animals keep yore trap shut," I say. "If we tell Wolf that we have spotted a white spirit animal from a' aircraft, he will likely get grouchy."

Buzz looks like he is surrounded by an alien species. Which he is.

Wolf gives me a mock gruff look.

Spud says, "Not to worry Buzz, inside joke. You see any unusual animals tell me, I wanna see 'em too."

"You are very much unlike the humans at Oxford."

"We's cowboys," says Spud. "Different species entirely, we like to say."

"Pfft," says Sky. "Not me, I'm educated. I went to flight school."

"I expect thet's not nothin' like Oxford," says Spud. "Buzz here went to Oxford on that Brit planet. Listen to him talk. Seems like his and the Bridbury's way of talkin' is way different than ours."

"In actual fact, we know a lot of words, we just prefer to talk cowboy," I tell Buzz. "It's Wolf here, no one understands him."

"Hmph, Wolf speak truth. Plain truth."

"And we love ya fer it, brother," says Spud.

Eventually we run out of rude things to say to each other and sit quietly, lost in our own thoughts.

"Okay, how about this?" I ask. "We are not from Earth, though our ancestors are Earthkind. Humankind started on Earth. Right? Now, wait a sec," I hold up a hand, "bear with me. Humankind left Earth..."

"Had to," says Sky.

I nod and continue, "...and moved to other planets. I mean, had to leave or not, we are all on new planets now. We are Earth humans, but were born and raised on not human planets. Ya with me so far?"

I see a few noncommittal, maybe just plain bored, looks.

"Are we all extraterrestrials now? We are not from Earth, though our ancestors were Earthkind, born and bred."

I glance around.

"I'm seein' a lot of puzzled looks here," I say. Maybe a bit puzzled myself. Why I asked.

"If I may venture an opinion?" asks Buzz.

"Go fer it, partner," says Spud.

"It may be unpopular. One would hope that you won't harbor bad feelings. Or feel the need to end me."

"No worries, cowhands are a' open minded bunch, fer the most part," I say.

"On Bãngh, we..."

"Bãngh?" says Sky, surprised. His face gets pale and he drops the yoke.

The puddle jumper goes into a dive. Spud, who is in the right seat, grabs the copilot yoke and pulls us up.

"Easy, Sky."

"Shit," says Sky, turning to look at Buzz, wide eyed. "You've been to Bãngh? Damn. I hear those primitive savages grill up humans and eat them for breakfast. Like to dip them in ketchup. Naked gruesome savages, they say. How did you survive?"

"Sheer exaggeration, my dear fellow. Bãngh is a friendly planet. I never saw a human eaten during my entire sojourn there," says Buzz.

"Wow, that's a relief," says Sky, shaking his head. "Rumors, huh? But they ain't just a story like them Wookies? There really are Bãngh?"

"Yes," says Buzz dryly, keeping his Bãnghness to himself. Then he continues, "As I was saying. We found the local Bãngh population to believe that they are a much more civilized and enlightened people than Earthkind.

"The Bãngh story says that a ship of Norsemen left Earth during Earth's twentieth century and settled on the planet Bãngh. They were an intellectual elite. They designed and built a ship in order to search out a new home. They set out to start their own civilization, a utopian society, as was popular in the lore of the time. They worked hard and thrived on the new planet. They created a peaceful, egalitarian world.

The saga of Bãngh says that the Norse were gods. On the new planet they were isolated from the rest of Earthkind for hundreds of years. In the course of time, they believe that they evolved into much more intelligent beings. They also had the advantage of a sparsely populated planet. There were plenty of resources for all. Until there is not enough to go around, there is somewhat less pressure for violence. Bãngh had no war. And no armies, which showed an unbelievable lack of foresight. The Bãngh were not ready when the Centrists came.

"Still, Bãngh believe that they are the only group in all the Cosmos which is exceptionally, supremely intelligent."

I breathe quietly.

Buzz nods his head and says, "Many humans think that Bãngh, if they actually exist, must be stupid. Bãngh are not quite human, therefore they can't be smart. Only humans can. Of course in this quadrant most believe that Bãngh are but a myth. Not unlike Reavers or Klingons."

"I reckon ever'one wants to be the first and the best," I say.

"Human and Bãngh were all originally human and interbred on Old Earth," says Buzz. "Unless the old stories are not myths and Bãngh, as descendants of the Norsemen, are indeed gods. While humankind are mere mortals. In any case, the Bãngh are only to be considered as aliens because of our early emigration from that Earth. They too are Earth born."

"Yeah? Wow," I say. "Who knows."

Buzz says nothing. Then nods to himself and says quietly to me, "Besides, were I to eat a human, I would use mustard."

Sense of humor, I like that.

"Mustard?" I say. "Yuck."

"My head hurts," says Spud.

"How did you do at Oxford?" I ask.

"First in class," says Buzz.

"Wow." Maybe those powers Sir Jacob spoke of are true.

Wolf just laughs.

"Rockians? Rockkind? Rockers?" I wonder aloud. "Triassicans? Dynomites? Hey, I like it, we who hail from the dinosaur planets are Dynomites! And folks from Bãngh would be called Bãnghers."

I look around. Nothing. Why is no one ever listening when I have an ideological, or is it grammatical, breakthrough?

"Michael will appreciate it. He is already dynamite," I muse, to the air.

# 24 The Worst

Sky is buzzing T'ree Forks to be sure the landing zone is free of loose livestock and wild critters. After assuring himself that his chosen strip is clear, Sky sets us down in the large clearing close to Mose' trapping camp.

As we start to troop out of the puddle jumper, Mose comes running over.

"She gone," he says, out of breath. "I come back from settin' mah trappin' gear and Shaz ain't heah."

"Slow down Mose," says Spud. "You sure she ain't just off somewheres climbin' trees or such?"

"No sign," Mose says panting. "I'se kin read sign with the best of 'em."

"Yes, brother, you can," says Wolf. "Come, we look more."

"It's like she done disappeared."

"Okay, we split up, take quadrants," says Spud. "It's yore neck of the woods, Mose, that sound okay to you?"

"Yas'suh," says Mose. "maybe I got excited, missed somethin'. He looks over at the jumper and exclaims, "Wait. Is that Buzz?"

Buzz and Sky are just getting out of the jumper. Buzz is barefoot, carrying his boots.

"Buzz," Mose says in a louder voice, "is that you boy? Jumpin' Jehosophat, yore a sight fer these pore ol' eyes. And just in the nick of time to find my sweet pardner."

"Mose! You are a veritable feast for mine ocular orbs yourself, my good man," says Buzz. "Enlighten me."

They embrace, and slap each other on the back. Old pals, they exchange pleasantries.

"Okay, Mose and Buzz pair off. Annie and I will go up with Sky so we got lotsa eyes. Wolf..." Spud falters and looks around.

"Did y'awl blink?" asks Mose. "He gone."

Spud shrugs and adds, "Signal us if you find anything."

"Awright."

"That okay, Sky?" asks Spud. "We use your bird to search?"

"For the crazy bear girl?" asks Sky. "Sure."

We walk back and climb in.

Sky is saying to Spud, "I hear she's cute, but she bites."

Spud looks back at me and winks.

He takes right seat. I sit behind Sky so I can see out the port side. We fly along watching the ground for anything unusual.

After a lot of nothing unusual, I ask Sky, "What inspired you to get in the flyin' business?"

"Why do I do this?" he asks, then ponders a bit.

Eventually, he glances back at me and says, "The money's good and the scenery changes. Heck, the cosmos is my backyard. I can cross it at warp speed, mechanicals permitting.

I nod politely. Space, not my idea of fun.

We fly around for a while more with no results.

"I suggest we try over by where we saw the white buff. Just swing off here a ways," I say. "Look fer bull quartz, massive bull quartz, along a crick."

Sky banks around and heads that way.

"Damn, I see it out to starboard," says Spud. "Wolf is there already."

The puddle jumper glides us down.

Wolf walks over and says to Sky, "Lot of sign, go tell Mose and Buzz. Their tracks fresher than Mose tracks."

"Okay."

"Hey, thanks for your help, Sky."

"You bet, pardner. I got a job to get to after that. Looks like you got a handle on it anyways. Good luck!"

We dismount and Sky takes off back toward town, set on talking to Mose on his way.

"Wow, there is a lot more quartz here than I realized last time. I thought it might be hard to see from the air. Shit," I exclaim. "A fuckin' mountain of it. Watch fer shiny yeller spots. Always nice to find somethin' valuable like gold."

We are following Wolf as he tracks.

"Wait here," he says. "Wolf gotta be sure, not cover sign with big white man feet."

"Same size as yours," says Spud in an injured voice.

Wolf ignores him, walking off down the trail.

"Mose was here," Wolf says and points at Mose tracks. "These other tracks come after."

I get bored standing around, so start looking about myself. There is a dark shady place up the hill. I head up to check it out. I climb between the small juniper trees and use them for handholds, as the rocky going gets rougher.

"Holy shit," I exclaim. "Look at this."

Not hearing a reply, I look around and realize that Spud is not with me. I shrug and head in for a closer look.

It is another outcropping of the quartz rock. All shiny and white, slick and hard, but there is a broken fractured place. Looks like the rock burst outward in a huge explosion. There is a crack just big enough to crawl into. I pull a match out of my watch pocket and strike it on my zipper. I carefully hold it inside the fracture.

"Whoa." It is like a giant geode, an air pocket in the bedrock with huge crystals all about, and scattered pockets of the tiny druzy quartz crystal carpeting. I take stock. The cave is large enough to crawl in a ways, but I only have a few matches. The matches blow out as soon as I move. I light one up, look, crawl to the end of where the light reached, then strike another and repeat. The floor of the tunnel has accumulated a layer of dirt from frequent use. Maybe an animal den? The dirt covers the sharp little crystals and saves my pants from excessive wear and tear.

I dare not head into total blackness, as there could be forks or even shafts. Oh, snakes, cougars, or bears. Then, I remember the griz we saw at our camp. Shit, is this a good idea? Only three matches left. I strike one and crawl further, whilst having more second thoughts or are they third thoughts? Like spiders and crawly things.

"Should have went back fer candles or a lantern," I tell myself. "But I got in a hurry."

What's that deal about plannin' ahead? Oh well.

On my second last match, I can see a corner and crawl to it. Where I can feel the bend in the cave, I pull myself out past the corner enough to have a good view ahead, if it continues. I hear a noise as strike the last match, sure that I can find my way back out in the dark. Hope the noise is just a rodent. My match flutters out in a fresh breeze rushing down the tunnel.

Suddenly, something jumps me. It's after my face. Oh my stars, it's lickin' me. I'm lunch.

I grab aholt of it. It is furry and soft and shines a bit in the darkness.

"Bitch?"

"Pant, pant, pant."

"Gawd a'mighty, girl."

Her whole body is wigglin' with joy. My heart, on the other hand, takes a bit to calm down.

# 25 B'ar

"Son of a gun. Bitch. You scared the pee waddin' outta me, ladybug."

"Pant, pant."

"You alone? Where's Shaz?"

Bitch turns her head to look back down the tunnel.

"If you could learn to speak English, be a help."

I pet her for a bit, thinking.

"Smart thing is to go find the boys and get lights."

I turn around in the narrow space, not easy, and start toward the entrance.

After I crawl a few steps, Bitch whines.

I look back but can't see her. I wiggle my way back around and feel for her. She is not close enough to reach. I crawl back around the corner. Now I can see the glow of her fur. There is a bit of light coming from a crack somewhere.

"Bitch, come."

She hesitates, once again looking back farther into the tunnel. Maybe she has a kill back there and wants to share? Maybe a nap spot? It is nice and warm in here.

"Bitch, we can come back, we just need to get lights."

She whines, unimpressed by my incomprehensible logic, and stands her ground. Reluctantly, but with a hundred pound dog to protect me, I follow her on into the tunnel. I've got a couple of weapons on me, too. Not fond of shooting in tight places in the pitch dark, though. Another reason why a good knife is always in style. Backup.

As we move along, the light slowly gets brighter. It is gleaming off the crystals on each side and coming in above us through the crack in the ceiling. The well-used floor is thankfully still smooth or my knees and palms would be shredded. Crystals are by their faceted nature, sharp.

After a ways, the light has petered out and we are in complete darkness again. All I hear is Bitch panting, and her paws and my various limbs scuffling along in the dust.

I hear a new sound, like a moan. Bitch stops walking, I bump into her wagging tail. She sits. As I edge around and feel into the dark void ahead, I feel a leg. Another moan. Who?

I feel a hand and run my hand up an arm. The face is gagged. I fidget around and get my other arm past Bitch in the narrow defile. With a bunch of feeling and fiddling, I figure out the knot and untie the gag. There is an intake of breath. Nothing else.

"Damn it, can you talk?" I lift an arm, it falls to the ground. Check the pulse, strong and steady. I do a full body search. Tits, oops, sorry. Okay, she is female. Then in a pocket, I find matches.

I strike one up and, sure enough, it is Shaz. All trussed up. I untie her ankles.

I look at Bitch, "Now what?"

I don't even have water. I slap her face. Not fun. Always thought it would be. Her head flops around a bit but she is out of it. I have the two ropes she was tied with. I feel around and find the thick saddle blanket that she is sitting on. I can't really get past her to search more.

I am concerned that if I leave her here alone to go get help, the kidnappers will return. I definitely want to keep her with me.

I get things moved around so Shaz is head first toward the entrance laying on the saddle blanket. I tie a chest rope around Bitch. I tuck Shaz' hands into her belt. Then, I tie the rope to the corners of the blanket and run them around Bitch's chest and over her back to make a quick and dirty harness. The rope is long enough that I can fit in between Bitch and Shaz. That way I can help pull and check to be sure Shaz doesn't roll off. Plus watch that the blanket doesn't wear through. I run rope around my shoulders and tie myself into the makeshift harness.

"Okay girl, let's try this out. Walk slowly."

Bitch does. Holy cow, does she understand English?

The rope tightens on me, so I start pulling too, moving at a slow crawl. The blanket, with Shaz atop, starts to slide. We slowly make our way back to daylight. We stop along the way to negotiate corners and check on our patient. Fortunately, it is not as far as it felt like going in and Shaz is a good girl who never rolls off the blanket.

Unfortunately, despite all the movement, she is still unconscious. I leave Shaz and Bitch in the shade and walk a few yards out onto the hillside, keeping them in sight. I whoop for the boys. They must be wondering where I am by now. Been a long while since I saw them last. I am thirsty and tired. Not sure I can carry Shaz all the way to Mose camp. It is downhill but right steep in spots.

I whoop a few more times and whistle. A twig snaps behind me.

"Annie."

"Holy shit, Wolf!" I'm a mite jumpy. I put my gun away. Funny how it appears in my hand at times like this. Comforting.

Wolf is already walkin' over to look at Shaz.

"Shaz, girl. Wolf here, need to wake."

Shaz moans and rolls her head. After a minute or two, Wolf picks her up in a fireman's carry and heads off. Bitch and I follow. Wolf has found a game trail which makes it easier going with his load. After a long walk, we arrive at the crick. We take handfuls of water and dribble them in Shaz' mouth. And have a drink ourselves. The air draining down the draw is turning cool. Wolf rubs her arms and I her legs to encourage circulation.

Then, he hefts her onto his shoulder again and we head for T'ree Forks. The wind howls above the trees. Spud shows up on horseback when we are partway there. Wolf hands Shaz up to him.

"Good timing, brother," says Wolf.

"Careful," I say, standing on the off side in case she slips across.

Spud balances her in the saddle in front of him. She is a limp rag doll. As her hair falls back from her forehead, we can see the dried blood on her scalp.

We set off, a chilled and somber group, anxious to get to shelter.

We get to Mose' camp. He is there alone, splitting wood for the fire.

"Hallo the camp!" yells Spud.

Mose turns around, spots us and says, "Mah gal, dat mah gal!"

He comes running over and holds his arms up. Spud lowers the girl into them.

"Oh, Shaz, honey. It okay now, Mose got ya. Dese fine friends of ours bring you back. Y'awl home now. Come on, I take you inside. Ever'thing be fine."

He carries her inside and lays here on her warm buffalo robe bed. He has tea and soup going. Mose wraps her in blankets and tries to get fluids into her.

I tell them how I found Shaz.

Spud says. "After we left you, Wolf and I found tracks. We each followed 'em a different direction. Me headin' off to the south. Wolf backtracking toward Quartz Crick."

"How many?" I ask.

"Only one," says Spud.

"I find you. No, not find, just followin' sign. Run into you," says Wolf. "Girl mighty thirsty, head bump, bad news."

"Yep," I say. "Least ways she opened her eyes, focused 'em on Mose. That's a good sign."

"Spirits help her," says Wolf.

"Maybe our guy got no friends left," I say hopefully. "What with the trouble in town."

"Hm. Cross fingers," says Wolf.

Shaz opens her eyes for a minute, looking at Mose, and then rolls over and sleeps.

"Y'awl best sleep, too," says Mose, looking at us. "I watch her."

"Mose?" I ask. "Where is Buzz?"

"Don' know, we talk a while, then split up."

"He be okay out there?" asks Spud.

"Hell, he tougher than toads."

"Toads?"

"Yes'm."

"Okay, toads."

"G'night y'awl," says Mose with a smile.

As we step outside, I almost trip over Bitch. We step back and watch. Bitch is anxiously sniffing the teepee flap.

"Worried about Shaz. I'm thinkin'," I say.

"I'll go out on watch," says Spud, nodding in agreement. "You sleep."

Wolf says, "Wolf spell brother half night."

"Okay," says Spud.

"Half night? Toads?" I mumble, shaking my head. "Crazy Rockers."

The brothers have their backs turned. Both are pissing.

"Like I never saw those before," I say sarcastically.

No one is listening. After they finish shakin' 'em off, Wolf and I head to bed in a teepee. Spud heads for the lookout rock.

# 26 Paradise Lost

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

"The large anteroom could be evidence that this is, or was, a mine. Manmade or, at least, man enlarged. In inclement climates, the mine entrance is made large enough to store equipment during the off-season when the snow gets too deep to get in and out. Also, for use as dry shop space during the working season. Once, of course, the workings are large enough so as to present no danger from any blasting that may occur further down the tunnel," says Mose.

"Um, Mose?" I ask.

"Yes'm?"

"What happened to yore accent?"

"I'se a mountain man, I tawlks like one. When I am a mining engineer I use engineer speak."

"Shit, yore as bad as us cowboys. Cain't speak neither good nor well."

"I'se thinkin' that alien of ours is the only true English speaker in the bunch. He talkin' English as a second language. He reverts to Bãngh, we in trouble," says Mose.

"Injin speak true concise tongue. Easy to understand."

"Pfft," I say. "Shaz here is the smart one. Keeps her thoughts to herself."

During this exchange, we have been walking around the perimeter of the room searching for tunnels. Of course, as we turn to look at Shaz, it finally sinks in that she knows where to go, having been here before. We follow her.

She goes over to a blank wall with some boulders in front of it. As we go around between two of the honking big rocks we come into an area where pillars have been left intact to support the weight of the ceiling. As we wind through the pillars, a tunnel comes into sight. It is the definition of dark.

"Who brought the candles?" I ask.

Mose opens the bag he was carrying over his shoulder and passes out hardhats with carbide headlamps.

"Betta safe than sorry," he says as we roll the strikers and get the lights adjusted. "Dese ol' mine ceilings like to shed a few rocks now an' den. Keep dem eyes peeled. This are a heads up sitiation."

We head on into the dark tunnel.

"Spelunkers," says Mose.

I turn back to look at Mose and say, "I thought spelunkers was caves not mines?"

"Suit yesse'f. This likely both."

"Oh. Look here in the wall, crystals." I say, pointing. "The back entrance, where I found Shaz, has huge masses of crystals."

"Likely the original cave entrance," says Mose.

I start peering at the areas of crystals gleaming in the light of my carbide lamp. They are amazing. There is a whole vein of them crosscutting the tunnel. They run across the floor up the wall. Way up high in the ceiling is a cavity with more and bigger specimens.

"Fuckin' awesome, amethyst, too! Amethyst is so beautiful. Wow, this spelunkin' shit is cool."

"On Britannia, it is called potholing."

Jeez! I drop and roll instinctively.

"What the fuck?" I exclaim with my pistol in my hand. My headlamp shines far down the black tunnel onto Buzz.

"Man! Wolf already sneaks up on me, now you? Ay yi yi." I reholster my weapon and stand up.

"Apologies. Did you not see me?" he asks.

"It's dark in here." I say and walk on down the tunnel to where Buzz is standing.

"Ah," says Buzz, as I approach him. "of course, I forget."

"Forget?"

"Humans have not the vision of the Bãngh."

"Oh? That's yore power?" Unimpressed.

Buzz nods and says , "We have a reflective area in the posterior of the eye not unlike that of the Panthera genus, the cats, of old Earth. A useful mutation which apparently you Earth humans do not have."

I shine my headlamp into his eyes again. "They don't light up like cat eyes," I say.

"No, they act similarly in darkness," says Buzz. "However, the reflective mechanism is, actually, alien." He smiles at his witticism.

"Hey Wolf," I say and turn back around to look. Wolf is not there. Neither is Mose or Shaz.

"Yeesh. This is getting to be like those horror stories. If we split up, we die. I was just lookin' at 'em."

"I saw only you."

"That's a bit spooky fer my blood. I ain't a horror story fan. Nightmares. Speaking of which, here I am in a cave alone with a' alien. That sounds like the plot of a horror story, right there."

"This must be where I chop you up. Then I dip you in, er, ketchup, was it? No, as I said, I prefer mustard. And eat you," says Buzz, his eyes and teeth glowing brightly in the headlamp lit dark.

I gulp and blink.

"Come, not to worry. We shall backtrack and find the others."

"But there was just the one tunnel."

"We shall see."

We walk back to where I had been admiring crystals and continue just beyond there.

"Look here, a side tunnel," says Buzz. "It heads off at an obtuse angle from the direction you entered. It is hard to spot if one is mesmerized by crystalline structures.

"I must have missed it, like you say. I were bee lining fer the crystals. So much fer my bein' observant."

"Here, on the ground, you can see their tracks."

We turn down the side tunnel, following the tracks of the others.

"Which way did you come in here?" I ask. "We never saw yore tracks."

"I found an entrance on the north side of the hill."

"We came in from the west just now. Yesterday, I came in the crawlway from the south. There's a room the size of a barn just inside the west entrance. We left the horses there. Serves to make our presence less obvious from outside."

"Quite a complex."

"Yep."

"But, why?" asks Buzz

"Why what?"

"Yes, what. What do you suppose was, or is, the purpose of this complex?"

"Excellent question."

"Ah, there are the others. Perhaps they have an idea."

We catch up to Wolf, Mose and Shaz, who are standing together talking.

Wolf turns to us and asks, "Where you find alien?"

"Buzz was just a ways farther down the tunnel from where you three turned off," I say.

"Y'awl get lost, cowgirl?" asks Mose.

"Actually, you did. I stopped to examine a crystalline outcrop. When I looked up, I saw Buzz in the distance. I walked on down the tunnel to meet him. When I looked back to talk to you, I realized you all were gone," I say. "We had to backtrack. I never saw the fork in the tunnel the first time through."

"White girl need more 'how to be Injin' lessons," says Wolf.

"I reckon so," I say. "And, I'll thank you to remember, I am not white, rather a dark tan."

Wolf smiles.

"Shaz was just showin' us," says Mose, turning around. "Hey, whea she go?"

"You know, maybe we should all work harder on stayin' together. We already know that there are wild bear girl kidnappers about," I suggest. "Maybe hold hands?"

"Mm," says Wolf.

"Yes'm," says Mose.

"Rather," says Buzz.

"Fuck me," I say, just for the hell of it. Getting separated isn't my idea of fun.

"Okay, let's go," says Mose as he heads out. "No way she coulda passed us. She gotta be ahead of us."

My headlamp flickers. I ask, "How long our carbide gonna last?"

"Not to worry," says Buzz.

"Oh," I look at Buzz. "Right."

"Don't disappear," I say. "I am not a fan of explorin' in the pitch dark."

"Righto, I shall not disappear."

I look him in the eye and ask, "Can you actually disappear?"

"Can't you?"

Aliens. What can I say? Will this smartass guy ever explain his powers? Yeesh. Still liking him though. Something about mysterious men, aliens, whatevs. I love a mystery.

# 28 Powers

We walk on down the tunnel until we come to another fork.

Mose stops and says, "Seems like she'd not be so far ahead. She an' I usually stay togethah. Maybe y'awl stay heah, I go ahead."

"Which way?"

"Her tracks right here, Annie," says Wolf.

"Oh, of course. Guess I need to look at the ground occasionally." At least he didn't straight out use the word stupid. I do admit to being shook up by it all, especially after crawling in and out of that deep, dark, closed in crawly space yesterday.

I hear a locomotive approaching.

"Trains, you got trains on the Rock?" I ask Wolf.

He is standing stock still.

"Shit! What the fuck? You feel that?" I say, having just been thrown to the ground. I roll onto my hands and knees as the earth continues to shake, rattle and roll. The sound of grinding bedrock is deafening in the tunnel. It quiets down as the movement lessens.

"Earth move." Wolf is still standing but I saw him holding onto a wall for support a matter of seconds ago. "Sound like hurricane."

"Merely a small tremor," adds Buzz, standing up and dusting off his pant legs.

"You don't sound scared."

"What is, is," says Wolf.

"Bãngh has many quakes," says Buzz.

"Is there an entire mountain over your head during these quakes?" I ask.

"We are helpless before nature. The planets have powers beyond the imagination," says Buzz, shrugging.

"Are you another Zen motherfucker like Wolf here?" I ask.

Wolf and Buzz both look at me. Long, tall and good lookin' Buzz is slim like a runner. Wolf is more of a powerhouse. Now, if I had my druthers...

"Okay, she heah, come on," Mose yells back at us.

Snapped back to reality, I say, "Damn, hope we get there soon so we can git outta this rock crusher." Guess I'll have to examine my druthers more closely later.

"Relax Annie, be here now," says Wolf.

"Right, right." Maybe it's low blood sugar, I am definitely not here now. I try imagining sandy beaches, blue skies, anything but trembling black tunnels. Hey, I could think about hot men. We got 'em. Right here, right now.

We catch up to Mose and Shaz.

"She okay?" I ask. "Looks mighty scared."

Shaz is wild eyed and pale. Like she saw a ghost. She is looking right at Buzz.

"Um..." I start to ask.

"Hey gal, what yo' problem? Buzz' our friend. You met him."

"Actually, we haven't met," says Buzz. "She was captured before I arrived."

He looks at Shaz and says, "Pardon, my dear. I am Buzz, a friend of Mose."

"Yeah, we old friends, go way back. Buzz and me, and Sir Jacob, too. We cause all kinda trouble way the hell back when. Oh yeah."

Shaz is unmollified.

"Miss Shaz, I have come here to help you and your friends. I am an ally."

"See? He talk funny jes' like Sir Jacob. Y'awl know him. That funny Brit way of tawlkin', not civilized like me." He smiles.

"But still good tawlk. We all friends. Y'awl will get used to the big guy here. Might take some time. But hell, y'awl got used to me. 'Member how scary I was when we first met?" Mose nods toward Buzz. "He okay."

Shaz looks a little better, not much.

"Come on gal, show us where you were and what happened before Annie found y'awl."

Shaz finally relents. She turns and starts once again down the tunnel.

"Is this tunnel goin' level, up or down?" I ask, just to make noise and keep my dizzy mind busy.

"Level," says Wolf.

"Up," counters Buzz.

"Day-own," Mose replies. "Ever'one has they own opinion."

He chuckles.

"I'm thinkin' sideways," I add, just to be colorful. And keep my mind off the thought of the rock walls closing in on us.

Shaz has no comment.

"On Britannia we would suspect a tunnel system such as this to be a hideout for illegal immigrants," says Buzz.

"Oh?" I ask. "What is a' illegal...whatcha call it?"

"Immigrant. Traditionally, on a more heavily populated planets, if the population of an area falls upon hard times, the people there will emigrate or move out to more prosperous areas in search of lucrative employment."

"Oh, yeah. I have hearda that. Sure. Hell, I did that myself even. Michael and I moved here to the Rock fer not only better pay, but also fer living conditions more to our likin'. On Terrania it was all hard work fer low pay and wall-to-wall people. We couldn't hardly stay alive on the wages there. Got lucky, heard about the Rock. We come up with a way to scrape up enough dough to git out just ahead of the posse."

"Are you here illegally, also?" asks Buzz.

I stop, turn back to look at Buzz and say, "Smile when you say that, stranger. Hereabouts, it ain't polite to ask. Them is, in fact, killin' words."

"Ah, I see, you are. I meant no offense. It, meaning immigration, the movement of people into new places in order to obtain better circumstances is how and why new places and even worlds are explored in the first place.

"For example, on Earth, the Siberians crossed Beringia by foot and boat to find better hunting, less competition. They found a home in the Americas.

"That Columbus fellow crossed an ocean to find gold for Queen Isabela. He found not only gold, but also silver, and cochineal."

"Coach...what?"

"Cochineal. It is a red dye created from the secretions of a scale insect on Opuntia cacti that became the third most valuable export to Spain. He also found tomatoes, chocolate, corn and the pineapple. As new societies prosper, gentry from older, overcrowded societies move to join with other more prosperous cultures in hopes of bettering their lot in life. They migrate to escape starvation, persecution, torture, and even death.

"One country in North America, which as all countries are, was founded by immigrants, had a welcoming statue in their biggest harbor. On the statue was a poem which said, in part:

'...Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!...' -Emma Lazarus.

"Curiously, they changed their minds, but never removed the poem.

"They built huge walls along their southern border, hoping to stem the tide. Uselessly, of course. People snuck in anyway. If existence in one's birthplace becomes awful enough, the intelligent choice is to take any risk to better one's condition.

"Bear in mind that new blood energizes planets. Pioneers are the hardest workers of all. As newcomers, they must work struggle to survive. It is human nature to fight for life to continue. You humans are a very successful species because of it. Humans continue now to explore new worlds, to go where no human has gone before. There is always a new frontier."

"I hope so. I sure seen people movin' into places with cartloads of new rules," I say, "or primitive places with dinosaurs and their killin' ways. A cowhand's gotta stay ahead of the tide to survive and not get et alive by the crowd."

"Quite."

"Actually, I never did do no paperwork comin' to the Rock. Just a dumb cowhand. If anyone asks, I plan to claim thet I cain't hardly write mah name, much less fill out a damn form. Did you?"

Buzz shakes his head in the negatory and says, "I love anarchy. As does my home planet. Our ancestors left Earth for just that."

"Escape from government forms and paperwork?"

"Quite. Along with governments in general."

We laugh.

Buzz says, "Here, another fork in the tunnel. Perhaps you and I should take a different route. We can cover more area that way."

"But, Shaz is taking us to where she was captured," I say as I point my headlamp down the other fork. "Wait, I wanna look at that outcropping."

I see that Wolf is walking back toward us. He says, "We find spot, hole. Them drop Shaz down hole, not expect back door for you to crawl in for her."

"Wow," I say, "Anything else?"

"Un-uh."

"Okay, I am going to look at those crystals real quick. I'll catch up."

"What about quake?" asks Wolf.

"I got crystal fever. Come with me, might need a strong Injin to rescue me after the next quake."

Shaz and Mose arrive. Mose says, "Buzz, y'awl got any idee how long it's been since that big fight on Brit with all them crazy she males?"

"Many years. Ah yes, I remember it well," says Buzz, looking thoughtful. "Seems like the large blonde floozy left you with quite the shiner the next day. And blue balls. Sir Jacob and I chided you mercilessly."

"Ha ha ha," laughs Mose. "'Twere true. I nevah guessed she were a he, 'til too late. May of had a bit too much to drink theah."

They head back toward the cave entrance talking companionably.

"Vamanos," says Wolf. "Wolf hungry."

"Soon," I say.

I lead the way to the crystals. The outcrop has more magnificent amethyst crystals growing among the quartz.

"I love purple," I say following the vein. Just as the tunnel turns, it widens into a small room with an alcove on one side. We walk around admiring the crystal formation which is glittering in the light from our carbide headlamps.

"Look," says Wolf.

I look up to where he is pointing.

"Holy guacamole!"

There is a high shelf, like giant size, just above our heads. Standing on the shelf is a quartz buffalo statue.

"Now that, is a knick knack," I say.

Wolf climbs up the crystal wall next to the shelf and crawls over to it.

"Spirit buffalo, Annie," he says reverently. "This the secret he capture Shaz to save. Sign left on shelf of another buffalo, already taken. Track in dust show it was here. Reading sign, it was taken same day Shaz captured. Footprints leaving deeper from added weight of buffalo carving."

He removes his shirt and wraps it carefully around the sculpture.

"You gonna take it?" I ask.

"Must save from others, bring back to cave when safe. Annie right, spirit live here. This is prophecy of papers we find in root cellar. Map has clues, but there must be a code, cave not in same place as mark on map."

"You been studying up on the map again, eh?"

"Wolf come prepared."

"Why didn't they take both buffalo with them yesterday?" I ask.

"Only tracks of one man deeper when he leave, because buffalo heavy. Big track, big guy, but not big enough to carry two buffalo."

Wolf heads for daylight cradling the buffalo. The weight of the large gemstone sculpture makes his muscles bulge. I walk happily behind, admiring them.

# 29 Jakey Boy

Next morning, Wolf is out of his blankets well before me. I am out well before daylight. Mose, Buzz and Shaz are already at the breakfast fire. So much for thinking I am an early riser.

"Damn, thought I would be first out of the soogans. Wolf left already?" I ask. I blow on my coffee. I am thirsty, but not anxious to burn my tongue.

"Trackin'," says Mose. "That boy learnt good. I 'member his pappy teachin' them two older boys. He were some."

"You know their pappy?"

"Shoot yea. Fine figure of a man," says Mose nodding while he shifts the shifting coals with a stick. "But he got the travel bug. Never see him much."

Shaz hands around plates of victuals. We eat and then get our gear together, not sure what the day will have in store.

By the time we have gathered all of Wolf's packhorses in the corral and my saddle horse is geared up, Wolf comes trotting in.

"We catched up the whole shebang, what with that weather headed in." Mose nods toward the clouds. "Thinkin' you might want to book it fer home. Me, Shaz and Buzz kin chase down thet hombre."

"Mnh. Bad guy head same direction. Maybe we run into him," says Wolf.

We get the sawbucks and panniers loaded. Wolf lovingly wraps the buffalo carving. He carefully cushions it in a pannier and hangs it on the tamest nag in his bunch for safety.

He turns to Mose.

"You got plenty ammo?" he asks.

"I been okay many a year and Buzz got the power. We be fine," says Mose. "Plus Shaz fights like a b'ar. Our man maybe bled out from her bites by now."

"Bites?" I ask.

"Mm-hm. Plenty blood where him capture Shaz. She not get wounds, only give wounds, before him knock her out."

"Oh, well, don't make her mad atcha," I say to Mose and Buzz. They smile. Then, I swing up onto Joe and open the corral gate. The pack string lines out down the trail with Wolf and I on their tails.

"Sun ain't makin' much headway," I say, after a few hours of light snow flurries. "Them clouds won't give us a break."

Wolf nods, eying the clouds.

We soon stop to get out a cold snack of beef jerky and dried apricots from our saddle bags.. Wolf dismounts and rummages around in a pannier. He pulls out blankets. We wrap them over our shoulders to hold the heat. The snow hasn't amounted to much, but it has covered any sign.

After we remount, Wolf moves his horse up into a jog again and we make quick tracks. The loose horses head right out, too. They know that we are pointed towards home.

Lunch finds us at our old campsite.

"Sir Jacob be excited by buffalo. Him not sure he believe in spirits. We see if spirit carving change his mind," says Wolf between bites. He is happy as hell about the whole spirit thing and I notice him smiling like crazy at times all day long.

None too soon, we come to the last pass. The snow is a foot deep but only for a short ways. We have lots of hooves to break trail, so are slowed but a little. By midnight or so, we arrive at Spud's.

He ain't home yet.

"Damn it. 'Member how we was s'posed to stay together?"

"Spud big boy, not worry, maybe he find bad guy."

"You see his tracks?"

"No, he start out lookin' for Buzz, maybe make big circle, cut bad guy tracks. We build fire, have place warm for welcome him home."

"You start the fire, kemo sabe. Then let's go soak while the place warms up. How many hours were we joggin'? All day, as I remember. My legs muscles are still twitchin'."

"Annie get wine, undress. Wolf join."

"Okay."

I grab the first bottle I see, put it on a tray, add a pile of victuals and head fer the hot pool. As I walk down the trail, I hear a shriek so shrill it can only be Michael. He sounds like he is being abducted. I slow to listen. I can't tell what is going on.

As I move quietly closer, I can see through the bushes that the spring indeed has occupants. They are splashing and playing in the hot water, oh, maybe more than that. I recognize Michael's naked outline and back up a ways, so as not to disturb.

"Oh, oh, oh! Praise the gods, do it more. Wait slower, slower. Yes, yes, yes!" he is saying.

Oh. Oops. I head back toward the cabin.

I am almost to the back porch when Wolf walks out in all his naked glory. He asks laconically, "Why Annie not wet?'

"Michael is out there with some company." I point with my chin.

Wolf continues toward the water.

I say, "But I think they are..."

Not hearing me or not caring, he keeps walking. He goes far enough to see the water. Emboldened, I follow and stand shyly behind him.

He watches a sec and then says, "How."

He turns back to me and says, "Last Injin in is a loser."

We run for the water. Wolf wins. Michael is just getting out.

He says, "Your turn."

And gives me a hug. The pool is empty. His friend or friends must have exited behind the trees at the other end.

"Oh, doggies, does this hot water feel fine," I say as I float away from shore.

And Wolf? He feels fine also. Yeehaw!

# 30 Bãngh

In the morning we get a chance to examine the buffalo carving more closely. It is a fabulous bison bull in his prime. The rock is clear and white quartz with a few amethyst inclusions and the cape is druzy amethyst. It is an amazing work of art.

"Come on, how is it possible? I mean the coincidence. We see a white buffalo right by the quartz crystal cave. Then, in the cave, we find a white and purple buffalo carving? How is it freaking possible?" I ask.

"Spirits," says Wolf.

"I suppose I oughta agree on that'n. No other way to explain it. I guess the clincher will be if it happens again."

Sir Jacob walks in from the kitchen, nodding a hello. Michael is right behind him with a fresh cup of coffee.

"Mornin' gents," I say.

Sir Jacob who must have overheard us, says, "One must remember genetics. In order for a white buffalo to occur, there is a genetic marker in the bloodlines. Therefore, there could have been another white buffalo in the past at this same location. At a certain time of year, of course. One must bear in mind that bison are migratory ungulates. It could be unusual enough that the actual white phase only occurs every few generations. Very interesting." He leans over to examine the sculpture. "Fabulous work. One wonders how old it is."

Wolf says, "Marker? No, spirit."

"Of course, Wolf. Injin spirit marker," says Sir Jacob agreeably.

I head out to the kitchen for more coffee. Michael follows along.

"How was the mass autopsy?" I ask.

"In fact, fascinating," says Michael. "Sir Jacob is quite the forensic doctor. He is much more accomplished than I. I learned quite a lot."

"Yore startin' to talk like him too," I say and chuckle.

"He does speak more clearly than we cowhands."

"Yep. But it seems like hard work, what with all them fancy words."

We take the coffee pot out with the breakfast tray. I fill cups while Michael puts the food on the table. We eat, admiring the buffalo centerpiece while we chew. My dirty mind is wondering who Michael's partner was. I know, none of my business. But in my defense, Michael is my partner, like a brother to me. I feel a familial responsibility.

Wolf is sharing the tale of our adventures in the crystal cave. He can be quite eloquent when he gets excited and forgets to stick to his Injin pidgin. Just like us cowhands, slipping in and out of our chosen vernacular as the occasion requires. Mose, too. We, each in our own way, slip in and out of Cowboy, Injin, Mountain man jargon and Brit almost as easily as we change clothes. Citizens of many times and many worlds.

If we could only convince Shaz to learn to speak any dialect besides bear. Patience is agony, okay, maybe it could be a virtue. We shall see.

Actually, dwelling on it, I can talk fancy way easier than I did that clothes changing on Pi. Downright embarrassing, that was. So many tight, uncomfortable garments. I'd never make it as a lady. Praise the gods, we dress cowboy on the Rock.

Wolf is a good sport when I say, "You sound like a professor, Wolf, talkin' about that cave, all educated like."

He just smiles. Then he turns laconic again as he cocks his head. listening. "Horses, two, with riders."

"Seriously? You can hear all that?" I ask.

"Come," he says. "Look."

We head out the door. Sure enough. Two horses with riders.

"Dang, Wolf. That is amazin'. How do you do it?"

"Injin powers."

Spud and Buzz wave and dismount. We watch from the porch, sippin' our coffee, as they unsaddle and loose their mounts. They walk over to join us.

"Quite the ride," says Buzz.

"Yep, we saw a bit of country. Actually, I didn't see a whole lot of it, just crossed it in the pitch dark," says Spud. He looks toward Buzz. "Them Bãngh eyes helped some."

"Mostly, we relied upon our mounts. Horses are uncanny," says Buzz. "They remember every step of any journey they take. I merely verified the more precipitous parts when Spud appeared nervous."

"No shit, I been on many a night ride, but not often in such a blizzard. We was in a damn whiteout that lasted four hours or so. Sorta spooky. Finally broke out of it, after sunrise, comin' down the long hill from the pass. Horses just kept movin, they know the trail and the hay pile at the end of it," says Spud. "Buzz told a few Bãngh stories to keep us awake."

"Better that than worryin' about fallin' into a freezin' crick," I say, "or off a cliff.'

"Quite."

Sir Jacob comes out the door and gives Buzz and Spud each a bear hug, "I say, my good fellows, welcome. Buzz, come into the house. Spud, we have made ourselves at home in your absence."

"Glad of it, hope you got some victuals cooked up," says Spud.

"Indeed, Michael is in the kitchen scraping something up. Here is coffee. Dust the snow off. You must have been in a rush to have made such a rough journey and survived this far. We could see the storm up there obscuring the pass, didn't expect anyone would make it through."

"Yeah, it were somethin'," says Spud rubbing his hands together over the fire in the fireplace.

He gets his coffee and wanders into the dining room.

"Damn, that's some carving," says Spud. "Where did it come from? Who do you suppose was the sculptor? Is it new or old?"

"Wolf will explain," I say.

After coffee, during a hot lunch of potato soup and fresh baked bread, Wolf tells the tale of finding the quartz buffalo carving to the newcomers.

"Can it be old?" I ask. "How long have humans been on the Rock?"

"In the neighborhood of 25 years," says Sir Jacob, who was on a terraforming crew here. "I believe they were on Bãngh long before."

We all turn our heads to look at Buzz, the Bãngh.

Jacob smiles and says, "You lot haven't quite digested the idea of aliens in our cosmos, eh? Traveling about before our ancestors left Earth. What say, Buzz, would you care to enlighten us?"

"Ahem," says Buzz looking embarrassed at the attention.

"Not to worry, we are all friends here," says Sir Jacob.

Buzz look serious, as if gathering his thoughts. He sips his drink.

"Quite, well, my area of expertise is in fact humankind, having studied them, er, you, at Oxford. Due to the conditions on Bãngh which led to my leaving, I had a less than complete education about my own home planet," says Buzz.

"What can you tell us?" asks Spud.

"Maybe if I reiterate some of that which I related to Spud during our blizzard ride, it will help to pave the way to understanding how my race, or species, differs from yours. Cultural differences play a part in how the Bãngh have evolved since leaving Earth, but war is another factor.

"You see, during my youth the Centrists discovered Bãngh. Bãngh was, and still is, a planet rich in heavy metals. The Centrists wanted to purchase gold, silver, molybdenum and others. Offers were made, trades offered. The Bãngh were not interested in the offers. It was decided by the powers that be, that we hadn't enough to spare. They said no.

"The Centrists were unhappy. They wanted a source of minerals in that remote area of the cosmos. Bãngh is easily as far on the other side of the Center as the Rock is this side. The Centrists are used to ruling all the Cosmos, always getting their way. So, being unsuccessful in negotiation, they attacked.

"The Bãngh were a peaceful people. We had arms, of course. But, we had no real armies. Nothing on the scale of the Centrists. This created a crisis for Bãngh, similar in scope, one might argue, to the 'Troubles' as the rulers of humankind so understatedly called your civilization's precipitous downfall. We in effect, caught empty handed.

We were totally unprepared, disorganized, untrained for combat.

Bãngh was losing the battle, no, the war. We learned as the war continued, to hide and attack. Many Bãngh took to the woods and mountains. They fought with guerrilla tactics. Many thousands were killed, including my father. It was genocide.

Younger and younger men were being conscripted into the conflict. My mother could stand to lose no more family. She had the means. She paid a fortune to have smuggled me off planet to Britannia. She purchased falsified papers showing me to be human and Brit. That, plus my intelligence tests, served to get me into Oxford. I expected her to follow, but she stayed on Bãngh. All her friends and other family were on Bãngh. I suppose, in the end, she preferred to remain a Bãngha, not live a lie among humans.

"Many other Bãngh also left the planet with falsified papers. On the far side of the galaxies where the Bãngh are known by humankind to exist, the Centrists still offer a bounty on Bãngh who are caught off planet. They are considered spies. And wanted, dead or alive."

"So, Bãngh travel the planets incognito. We are unwelcome in many places. We are still seen as the enemy by many."

"Remember, I told you Annie that I fought with your father on Triassic?"

"Your father could have been Bãngh. We were in a battle where I believe he used Bãngh powers, but could not be sure. He told me he was a Viking. He even carried his shield into battle. We shared the Viking resemblance, but never had time during the Dino attacks to discuss it. You see, it is hard to broach the subject, what with the bounty. I asked about it in a roundabout manner and he started to answer me, just as the dinosaurs surprised us. During the battle, he was badly wounded and taken to the infirmary. The dinosaurs almost wiped out our whole company. I was one of the lucky few to survive.

"Nah," I say, thinking. "Do you mean my father? Viking sure, but Bãngh? No, I would have known. He would have said. We would have noticed. He was a quiet man though. Never said much about hisself. Surely though, my mom would have known. She never said anything. Really?"

Buzz shrugs and continues, "The next day, I got a chance to visit him at the hospital tent. He was semiconscious, delirious, one might say. He was saying the same phrase over and over. The phrase was very clearly in the language of the Bãngh."

"What?" I ask.

"He was speaking Bãngh, Annie."

"But...," I stammer.

"That afternoon, I had a chance to get on the last ship and flee, so I took it," says Buzz.

"Whoa."

"I never discovered unequivocally from whence he came prior to his move to Triassic. However, in all my travels since leaving the home planet, he is the only one I have ever encountered who spoke Bãngh.

Also, the timing was right had he fled during the early years of the Outrage. That is what we call the Centrist attacks on our planet. Truly, it was an outrage. He met your mother and married into your ranching family. I wonder if he ever took the risk of telling anyone where he originated. It is not proof, but I believe it to be extremely strong evidence.

"But you, Annie, are the result. I believe you could be Bãngha or half, I should say. You are unusually tall for an Earthkind woman."

"Oh."

I look around.

"Sheeit, this has gotta be a big joke, come on. I bet you aren't even a wanted alien Buzz."

I slap his arm playfully.

"Would that I were not," says Buzz, looking lonely, bowing his head.

Spud has joined us.

"You know too?" I ask.

"Buzz and I talked on the ride."

"Shit I ain't no Bãngh. No way. That's crazy. Just tall," I say, totally in denial. "Being tall has always been a big hindrance to getting boyfriends, though. Maybe I'll switch teams."

I wiggle my eyebrows at Spud.

"Yo, ladies," I shriek and flip a wrist. "Here I co-ome. Oh, yeah. I'll be a flaming female version of Michael." I smile broadly to the group.

Wolf laughs at this. As does Sir Jacob. Buzz smiles, but looks puzzled.

"Welcome to the club, sweetie," says Michael. He loves it. He laughs aloud and prances around the room.

"Are there other crossbreeds around?" asks Spud, looking concerned, not even bothering to crack a smile at my joke.

"Across the cosmos, without a doubt. Spacers, like sailors, are stuck on a ship for weeks and more. When they hit a new port, well, we are all aware what they want most of all. Bãngh do well in space, I hear that many have counterfeit Earth identity papers. They trade in the far reaches of the galaxies out near Bãngh. The Rock is far removed from there, so it is much less likely."

"Bãngh? Here on the Rock? Naw." says Spud.

Sir Jacob waves a hand at Spud and Wolf and says, "Any of you Norse people could be Bãngh in hiding. Or descendants thereof. After Buzz told me the story of Annie's father, I realized that she could be also. You all appear to have the Norse blood."

Spud asks, "Tall means something?"

"Yes," I say. "Buzz told me all Bãngh are tall compared to Earthkind."

"Maybe, but humans can also be tall. And the Norse are known for their height," says Sir Jacob. "As you know, not all the Norse left Earth with the expedition to Bãngh. Only a select few."

"Other tall humans included the Osage, Carib, and Karankawa of the New World. The Sudan and Watusi of Africa, also a Chinese tribe, and a few others," says Buzz. "Not just the Norse. In fact, some say the Norse were not tall at all. However, I believe they arrived at a false conclusion by simply overestimating the average height of non-Norse peoples during Viking times."

"Oh," I say. Seems all kinds of tall men are hiding out there somewhere. I had no idea. I'm thinking maybe I need to quit the Spirit Quest and head out on a Tall Guy Quest.

"Wolf, you recognized something about me at once when we met, yes?" asks Buzz.

"I knew you were Bãngh. Maybe from Sir Jacob stories. But, I also felt a, uh, kinship," Wolf says, "because of yore resemblance to our Pa. He is paleface, like Spud."

Buzz nods and says, "In any case, there you have it, my people's story. Human, but many centuries removed, makes us just different enough to be ostracized by our Earth cousins. Cultures change," says Buzz, shrugging. He rubs his face, emotionally tired.

"And the Bãngh and Bãngha, what of them?" asks Michael.

"I don't know. Since I was sent to Britannia for my studies, I have heard nothing. I know naught of what has occurred on Bãngh. It is very far away and many years have passed. My mother put me on that ship to save me. Life has never taken me back. The Brits have become my people."

Jacob pats him on the shoulder, "Thank you Buzz, you are a good man."

"So many tall people here, not like Pi or even Britannia. I feel for the first time in many years that I could be among my own kind," says Buzz quietly.

# 31 Halvsies

"Half Injin, half Bãngh, eh?" I ask Wolf.

We are out feeding. Dawn is approaching and the horses are full of piss and vinegar. They frisk and buck around in the cold. The breath from their snorts looks like smoke in the frosty morning air.

"Injin, not Bãngh," says Wolf. "Buzz tell crazy story. Wolf Injin. Father cowboy. Look at Spud. His only power is over women."

"Oh, I was hopin' we was unique."

"Annie. We are," Wolf says and smiles.

We stand arm in arm and watch the sunrise. Then, chilled, we run back into the cabin and join Spud and Sir Jacob in front of the fireplace.

"So, Bãngh, eh?" I ask. Since Wolf won't talk about it, I hope someone else will. I blow on my coffee, thirsty from the exercise.

"Yes?" asks Sir Jacob.

"Well. Yeah, but I was just thinkin' on it overnight. I mean, I know the brothers and I are part Norse, Dansk, Viking, whatever you wanna call those northern Germanic tribes. So are the Bãngh originally. Right?"

Sir Jacob nods and says, "Yes, okay."

"Bãngh just left Earth a few centuries back. Don't make them not earthlings or not Norse, even if they didn't interbreed with Earthkind for a few hundred years. They and us here are all still Norse. Many earthlings are not Viking, but we are, we share that common ancestry. With a little of this and that, like the Injin blood, sprinkled in in our case. Right? Anyhow, the Norse were supposed to have god powers. So, maybe we got god powers too, eh? Even if our fathers are not from Bãngh. Maybe they are not powers that arose on Bãngh, but powers that were perfected on Bãngh."

Sir Jacob nods again and says, "Ah, I see. Perfected. Interesting speculation. I suppose that remains to be determined."

I can see the wheels turning in his Lordship's head. Speculation is something he and I have in common. His is educated. Mine? More seat of the pants.

"Mm-hm," I agree.

"Nice of Buzz to share a risky subject. It must be very disturbing to his species. Conquered on their own planet by earthlings, descendants of the same peoples. Living in a Universe peopled more and more by the ever expanding human race whose laws make all Bãngh outlaws.

"And to Buzz, personally, cast out alone as a teenager among, from his perspective, aliens. Imagine living with such a secret, knowing not who is friend or foe. Or even if any are Bãngh. Dangerous to ask when your entire species is being hunted for bounty. Their powers must have spooked someone back then. Spooked them enough to start the bounty program. Plus the war. Not unusual for losers to be blamed and ostracized."

"No kidding," I say. "I wonder if he has shared his story with others."

"Or perhaps it is simply that we have the audacity to call ourselves Bãngh, rather than human."

I look around and sure enough, that light-footed Bãngh, just like Wolf, has snuck up on me again.

He adds, "And, no. I have not shared until now. Mose and Sir Jacob figured it out themselves, lo, so many years ago. Sir Jacob assures me that you are family, so..." He shrugs his shoulders and spreads his hands palms up, in acquiescence.

"Well," I say, feeling a mite red faced. "I guess that answers that question. Thank you, Buzz. Coffee's on the sideboard."

He pours a cup and grabs a chair.

"The cosmos is a huge place of which we know little," says Sir Jacob. "Bear in mind that as our area of knowledge grows, so too does our perimeter of ignorance. Thus, the more we learn, the more we realize how ever much more we have yet to learn. In the end, one could postulate that there are no answers, only fascinating and ever evolving questions."

We all sit there nodding.

"Okay, who wants Irish in their coffee?" asks Spud, breaking the mood.

We all take him up on it.

"How about a quiet day with no emergencies for a change?" asks Spud. "Everyone seems to be safe and sound."

We while away the hours talking and laughing, ignoring any scary Bãngh vibes.

"I heard that there is a planet called Life," says Michael. "The people there make their decisions based on the spin of a pointer on a wheel. Apparently, there was a game that worked this way on Old Earth. These Life folks don't like to face the consequences of their own decisions, so they have elected to follow the whimsy of an inanimate wheel."

"The capricious nature of fate can be difficult to accept," says Sir Jacob. "There are many ways to dodge the guilt over one's own life choices. The most popular is simply blaming others; spouse, friend, your boss say or the government, for your problems. Or the opposing political party.

"Or, of course, the following of a cause or cult. Belief in superstition, any place where there is someone else making the decisions. Why not a spinning wheel? Leave the responsibility to others."

"Tossin' a coin," says Spud with a wink for me.

"Or the Bãngh question?" I ask.

"Ah. But we all have unknowns in life, you see," says Buzz. "That is why one must push ever forward, to live, to enjoy, the never ending search for bliss. For sickness or death can take one at any moment. "

"Are we just helpless pawns on the chessboard of life?" I ask, rhetorically.

"Mostly," says Spud.

"Heavy stuff," I say. "Kinda Zen." I look at Wolf.

He looks stoic.

"Hey, on a lighter subject," says Michael. "I heard a story about three Brit guys who used to buy half broken old vehicles and race each other all over Old Earth. They would search out unusually rough places for their routes."

"Ah, yes," says Sir Jacob. "They say it was a comedy act. They did it for no particular reason, other than to pull various tricks on one another. They would repair broken parts badly or break them further with hammers. And then, they would insult each other over their various quandaries."

"Oh, yeah, I've heard some of them stories," says Spud. "Was they the guys called the Stooges?"

"I don't know, I think maybe it was them Top Gear guys," I say, "Either way, I bet those are some popular stories on Gearhead."

"What is the point of these stories? They seem no more than trivia," asks Buzz "I heard such things often at Oxford."

"The old Hollywood stories are tales of the times on Old Earth before the Troubles. Better times, some say," says Michael. "Truth or fiction, who knows?"

"Ah, my friends," says Sir Jacob. "Be it truth or fiction, no matter, trivia is the nuts and bolts of the cosmos."

"It truly does keep us entertained," agrees Michael.

But, doesn't trivia mean small, unimportant things?" I ask.

"Yes, exactly," says Sir Jacob.

"So how can it be important?"

"Nut and bolts are small and unimportant also, but empires would fall without them. Every system is a mass of tiny things working together to accomplish, at times, very grand things. For example, the cosmos and everything in it, made up of tiny particles, mere wisps in the wind," says Sir Jacob.

"Wow." I say, nodding.

I stand up and look out the window and say, "Hey, look. It's snowin'. Best time fer a hot soak."

We rouse ourselves from our aimless reverie and head out through the snow flurries to the hot pools.

Spud says, "Here Buzz, let's take a bit of a detour. I can show y'all how this deal works. Have I showed you the hot works, Annie, Michael?"

"The what?" I ask. I have my arms wrapped around myself. "It's cold."

"Join us, darlin'. Just take a sec," says Spud, as he puts a warming arm around my shoulders.

We walk up a small hill across the road from the ranch buildings and over a swale into the next drainage. There is a log building straddling a small stream. The water is steaming in the cold.

Buzz asks "I say, Spud, what is this structure?"

"That there is the hot works. We tapped into the hot spring there on the side of the hill See the white ground there? There are pipes running to the cabin, shop, barn, and the teepees. We circulate hot water to all. Gravity flow. Gives us free heat. Cuts our firewood gatherin' chores to nothing, unless we want to run a fireplace fer the romance of it."

Spud smiles down at me and squeezes my shoulders for effect. Michael sees this and winks at me.

"Geothermal," says Buzz. "Quite the luxury."

"Then, just below the works we run the water through the pools, which get cooler as you go downstream. We also have the cool crick water so we can change the pool temperatures to suit our taste. And cold pools fer the polar bear types."

We arrive at the main pool, where Sir Jacob is already taking a slow lap.

"Come on, Buzz," I say, and in I wade. "Time for a swim. It's especially fun when it's snowin'."

He hesitates.

"Hey, did they not teach you to swim at Oxford? I thought it was a well-rounded school," I joke.

"In fact, embarrassingly, I have never learned how to swim."

"Come on, it's shallow, you can stand up everywhere. Join us."

Our big accomplishment of the day is getting our new friend in the water. After he gets over his first fears, he finds a nice underwater rock to lounge on and slowly relaxes.

"We have taught our Bãngh friend a new power," says Sir Jacob. "The ability to survive warm springs."

That evokes a laugh from all. Buzz turns a lovely shade of red as he laughs.

Michael, who is floating nearby, flips his wrist and says, "Is this fabulous or what?"

"Ah yes, my friend, it is," says Buzz lying back carefully in the flow of the warm, supportive, embracing liquid.

"This moment, now, is life. We are in this moment. We are all in the same moment," says Wolf.

"Now, me," I say, floating peacefully. "I once heard someone say: 'I want to be the elemental spark at the core of an ever evolving cosmos.' That sounds purely electrifyin'."

"So much fer the moment," says Spud.

"However, in Annie's defense, one must consider that if one is not building a future," Sir Jacob asks, "is it because one believes there is none?"

"To believe in the future must one plan for it?" asks Michael.

"Only now. And now. Also now," persists Wolf. "This now, Wolf go to teepee, think good thoughts." He climbs out on the teepee side, across the pool from Spud's cabin and walks off.

"Arrgghh," says Spud as he dives under the water like he is trying to wash all this philosophizing out from between his ears.

He surfaces and walks out of the water saying, "I got hooves to trim."

I get out, too, and wander over to help Spud. Leaving the three boys alone to comport theirselves as they wish. I know Michael is gay, still wonder who he was comporting with the other night.

Them other two? Well it ain't my business, I reckon. And it makes no never mind to me, they are my friends. But curiosity...said to be a killer.

I join Spud in catching up horses and we each set to work on one with our nippers. I get the splay footed roan and Spud does the little blue mare.

"You never found sign of the big footed guy who kidnapped Shaz?" I ask.

"Didn't, all them leaves that blew off the trees covered his tracks well. When I met up with Buzz, we talked it over and decided to try again the next day.

"We went back to T'ree Forks and ate some food, planning to continue our search later. But, as you know, that snow started fallin' faster and gettin' thicker. Mose kept lookin' at it, judgin' the weather. We climbed a hill to look it over, couldn't see a thing. By the time we got back down to camp, it was startin' to pile up a bit. Ruined any chance of ever trackin' that guy.

"Mose said the storm looked like a big 'un, plus he pointed out Buzz' skill fer seein' in the dark. Mose bein' the wilderness expert, we took his advice and hit the trail. Didn't want to get snowed in out there. Plus the trail you, Wolf and that bunch of horses broke would be settin' up good fer us if the snow got deep in the passes. We was only but a few hours behind you.

"We saddled up and lit out at a lope on yore trail. Got into some slow goin' here and there in the lee of the wind, but we made 'er."

"Glad you did," I say. I set the hoof I just finished down and walk over fer a kiss.

"We finish these last two ponies, a nap might be in order," says Spud.

"Oh yeah."

# 32 A New Day

"Moon's still up," I remark, surveying the sky.

"Yeah, Buzz and I were hopin' it would he'p us during our ride last night, but thick clouds mostly shut it clean out. It was dark as yore damn crystal cave," says Spud.

"I shudder at the thought," I say.

"Despite the nasty conditions, it was a companionable ride. Buzz is an interesting feller," says Spud. "When snow conditions got too poor to ride fast, he entertained me with them stories."

"Uh huh. I figured out later that he never seriously answered the question of why Bãngh left Earth. How come we never heard of these folks leavin'? I mean utopian society? What is that? Why not just go over the hill and start a new community? But heck, reckon they did leave. There's plenty of holes in history anymore."

"Maybe it ain't our business," says Spud.

"Hard not to be curious. Then again, maybe he don't know either, it was a long time ago," I say.

"Yeah, I reckon they don't know. Maybe it is like Earth, the past was bombed, burned, lost in floods, torments and such. Thanks to them ultra-religious book burners, much of our past is merely a matter of speculation."

"True," I agree. "We hardly know truth from fiction ourselves. Besides if they aren't from Old Earth originally, then they would be actual aliens. Eek." I shudder.

It being morning, we are feeding.

"Wolf feed yesterday?" Spud asks.

"I he'ped."

"Okay," says Spud with a twinkle in his eye. "He take good care of ya?"

"And me, him," I say, smiling.

"He is a good brother."

"I could learn to like this Injin brothers sharin' deal."

"You cain't ruin friendship with sex," says Spud, "It's like trying to ruin wine with cheese. My brother is a' all around good guy."

"Speakin' of heathen devils, here he comes," I say, pointing with my chin over an armful of hay flakes.

Wolf walks up and says, "Palefaces ready?"

"Fer what?" Spud asks.

"Spirit deer."

"What about the snow?" I ask.

"Wolf smoke, meditate, have spirit journey dream last night. Weather warm up with clear sky today, we have window for deer. Must leave soon."

"Time for a quick dip before breakfast?"

"Pool busy. Boys playing when Wolf walk by."

"Which boys?" I have to ask. A cat would definitely be dead by now. Seein' as how curiosity kills 'em.

Wolf looks at me for a mite then says, "Wolf not notice."

"Yore a better man than me," I say.

"You not man, only girl. Girl gotta know. Gossip is lady work," says Wolf with a sly grin.

"Okay, ya got me there. I do wonder," I say.

Spud says, "Shit, Wolf's pullin' yore leg. He knows. He is likely the most curious of the bunch of us. He spies on ever'one, bein' a' Injin. He loves sneakin' up on folks. Has done it with pride his whole life."

We both look at Wolf who, of course, looks innocent and unconcerned with such trivial stuff.

"Okay it's cold, I give. Let's go eat," I say and head up the steps to the indoors.

We head for the kitchen and cook up a fine feast. Spud makes fresh salsa. Wolf and I cook our freshly gathered eggs. Michael arrives in time to cook tortillas while his leftover frijoles refritos, refried beans, reheat. Buzz and Sir Jacob wander in last and set out the dishes.

We all gather round the table for another fine repast.

"Wolf go find Spirit Deer today. Now. Annie go too," says Wolf.

"I am?" I ask. "I have no, like, say in the matter?"

"Wolf absolve responsibility for Annie. Also, part of how to be Injin lessons."

"Lessons, eh?"

Sir Jacob pipes up, "Didn't we have this same conversation in the Short Branch not that long ago? If I remember correctly, Wolf's next line is hog tied or not...Annie going."

Wolf waves a hand toward Sir Jacob, needing to say no more.

I look around the room wondering if I look stupid.

"We find three spirits. Dog, human, and buffalo, yes?" asks Wolf. "Annie and Wolf good spirit partners."

Michael asks, "Where is Bitch? I haven't seen her."

"She stayed with Shaz, I think. That is where I saw her last," I say.

"No, Buzz and I saw her tracks in front of us on the trail here," says Spud.

Buzz nods in agreement.

"She with Coati, go check on teenagers today," says Wolf. "Coati keep Painter on short leash now. Make surprise visits."

"Ay, hope that kid stays put," says Sir Jacob.

Everyone nods at that.

"Okay, I get horses," says Wolf. "We go. All are welcome."

"I gotta check cattle," says Spud.

"Coati say she check for you."

"Ah, you have been plotting, brother."

Wolf smiles.

Sir Jacob and Michael are talking quietly together. Sir Jacob looks over and says, "I have chores up at the Arse End, so we will ride with you a ways. Buzz?"

"I will accompany your party."

"You may go either way when we split up," says Sir Jacob.

"Splendid, I shall decide before we separate."

"Good," says Wolf. "Michael can give more directions to last sighting of white deer."

"Great," I say, mentally jumping on board. "The adventure continues."

Now, dear reader, if you think carefully about this, you may realize that our journey takes us back up through Badger Canyon and the very memorable Dead Horse Draw. Spud takes great delight in recounting his version of my and Wolf's 'adventures' there to Buzz.

"I still get itchy ridin' through here," I say. I look around, counting. "Six dead shots to protect me today. Includin' myself, of course."

"And most of them bad guys kilt dead since then. Plus some of their friends too," adds Spud.

"Shit, I sure hope that Soames bastard neither lived nor left no pissed off friends behind. Sure seems like he must have been too badly hurt to have kidnapped Shaz that soon after."

"Tracks in buffalo cave too big for Soames," says Wolf.

"Oh, yeah, didn't think of that," I say.

"I saw the blood spurtin' out of his chest right after yore arrow hit him," says Spud. "Let's hope he's kilt."

Putting negative thoughts aside, we laugh and talk our away up Badger Crick. I am remembering what Charley said before the last journey.

I ride over to Buzz and share it with him. "When Wolf first asked me to join him on the buffalo quest," I say, "I was not too interested in going. I had other plans. My friend Charley kicked me in the butt. She said, '100 years from now when you look back upon your life don't you want to be able to say you went on the Spirit Quest?' That is what got me out here. Plus, Wolf's threatening to take me whether I wanted to go or not; hogtied, kickin' and screamin'."

"On the other hand," says Spud. "Adventure is just hardship fancified."

"Oh. When you put it that way. Hm."

"On Bãngh we have our own version of the saying. Hardship is the past tense of adventure," offers Buzz. "It is also said when we embark upon a difficult and harrowing journey, the survivors will have tales to embroider upon for the remainder of their lives."

"Survivors? Shit. Is Wolf lookin'? Maybe I kin sneak off," I say and mime looking for an escape route.

Wolf has, of course, snuck up right behind me. I shrug and say, "Like anyone could escape from Wolf's eagle eyes."

"Today," he says, "is a good day to live. Ask yourself, Annie, at the end of your time. When yore life story flashes before yore eyes, will it be worth watchin'?"

"Mm," I say. "Same thing Charley asked."

Eventually, having survived Dead Horse Draw, we split up. Michael accompanies Sir Jacob. Buzz stays with the brothers and me. Oh, the two doctor fellers have struck up at least a friendship, maybe more. I need to grill Wolf.

"Okay, now what?" asks Spud, looking at Wolf.

"What?" asks Wolf back.

"Look, I admire a question answered with a question, because there ain't no answers, only questions, right? You taught me that," says Spud. "But I was askin' what happens next on this quest deal?"

"'Tis the journey, not the destination," says Wolf. He looks at me and winks. "Spud pulling Wolf leg. Him know, inside."

We are climbing a long hill, sidehilling and switchbacking to reduce the work for the horses. We stop for them to blow three times along the way. While stopped we enjoy great views, looking back down Badger from on high.

When we top out on a snowy hill, we can see the down trending country ahead. The view below us includes a lake. The lake is at a low enough elevation that the trees still have their leaves.

As we get nearer, we stop on another hill. We watch the water. There is a beaver dam, the family of beavers is busily felling trees and dragging them to the water. Once the logs are floating, they swim behind and push them to the dam. Other beavers are dragging the green branches into the water, where they pull them to the bottom and stuff them in underwater piles for winter feed. Smaller members of the family, the kits, are playing atop the beaver house. Occasionally they drag a stick up to fortify the roof against predatory wolves, coyotes, cougars and such. The whole family works together to build and maintain their home with its fabulous moat.

"Look," says Wolf, pointing. "There, on south end of dam, the bird."

We all look.

"Tall white bird, yeah?" I ask.

"White phase heron," says Wolf.

"Are you shittin' me, brother?" asks Spud, teasing. "A half day into our adventure, we already found a spirit bird? Fuck, this is easy. I imagined hardship and toil. Yeehaw."

"Brother bring good luck. Wolf always know Spud good Injin. You see, you learn Injin ways, just like Annie," says Wolf.

"Hmph," says Spud.

"Sorry, this bird?" asks Buzz. "There are a number of white birds. Are they all spirit birds?"

"No, this white phase of blue bird, called Blue Heron. White Blue Heron, is uncommon phase," says Wolf.

"How do you know all this?" I ask.

"Mm-hm. Wolf Injin. Learn from chiefs at Spirit Cave Powwow. Big Injin med'cine." He says, looking strong and mystical.

"Also, Sir Jacob has a bird guide book. Wolf read that thing over and over as a kid," says Spud.

"Book? A real book, printed on factory paper? I saw them books at Jacob's place. They really have bird names in them?" I ask.

"Yes, one have bird name, picture, describe habits. Wolf spend many hours reading. Read animal book, also."

"Wow. My learnin' come mostly from story tellin' by my folks," I say. "I haven't touched a real old time book, yet. Next time at Sir Jacob's, maybe he'll let me look at one."

The guys all seem to think this is funny. Maybe on the Rock books are not so rare. I figger once agin, I shoulda kept my own counsel. I try not to turn beet red, but I can't. Got no control at all. Just a pore hick from Triassic.

We arrive at the stream, just above the beaver pond, and set up camp. We have a good view of the beaver activity. They likely never saw two legged critters like us before. Looks like they feel safe in their ponds. I carry my canteen over, walking slowly, to fill it. By golly, one slaps his tail on the water and...

'Crack.'

They all dive down into the underwater house entrance. Up inside, the house is above water, warm, dry and safe from predators.

"Smart, them beavers. They got teepees with moats," I say. "Suppose them kings and queens designed their castles after beavers? Just another example of a species smarter than us."

We eat right quick and hit the hay. Been a long ass day fer these childrens, as Mose would say.

Wolf has a last bit of wisdom to share.

"Where do we head tomorrow?" asks Spud.

"We continue journey," replies Wolf.

"No particular way?" I ask. "How will we find what we are lookin' fer?"

"Spirit deer is where we find him. We only know where he was day Michael see him. Now, we know naught."

"How come you never seem to care where you're goin', brother?" asks Spud.

"Because the journey is what matters. To ready apprentice spirit hunter mind for travels to come," he says. "Remember, chase after life brings chaos. Allow life to happen brings peace. Retreat from life, life maybe find you."

"If only," says Spud.

"Says the man who goes into battle saying, 'as usual, no plan'," I add, just to stir his brainpan.

That gets a smile out of both brothers.

"Ain't really no need for a plan, we have been working together for a lifetime. We know each other's ways," says Spud.

"Okay," I say. "Hasta mañany, boys." And head for my soogans.

# 33 Bam

'Bam!'

A horse snorts. I hear hooves pounding.

"What the fuck?" I whisper. I can see sparks and smoke flyin' up into the air out of the corner of my eye.

Wait, that might be our horses, running. Damn.

Spud's eyes are already open and looking right into mine. We are facing each other. So much for security. We both roll slowly over, arriving onto our other sides with pistols in hand. It sounds like someone set off a bomb in the fire pit. After the flash, my night vision is shot.

Spud jumps up and crawls left. I go the other way. Once we are in the thick of the willow brush that grows along the crick, the fire no longer spotlights us. I pause, listening, waiting for something to move so I can shoot it, maybe. The moon is not up yet, but there is a bit of light in the east. It is about to pop above the horizon. I can hear a horse snuffle. Phew, we need the horses. I stand up and walk carefully that direction, bearing in mind that they were just spooked by the blast. So, could still be wonky.

I hear Spud whispering. He is already out there. The edge of the moon peaks over the ridge and I can see Spud putting his belt around Joe's neck. I stand up slowly and walk over. Joe lifts his head and snorts like I might be a monster, so I whisper to him, too.

"Easy buddy, jest me," I say.

Joe relaxes and Spud leads him toward me. The three of us move back into the safety of the brush as the moon gets bigger and brighter in the night sky. It is bright enough now to cast stark shadows in the clearing.

"Damn lucky he stayed, horses usually run off together. Maybe they are still nearby," says Spud quietly.

"Joe's been a good partner fer a few years now. He is not a spooky type and is pretty damn good about stayin' near camp," I mutter proudly. "My ma used to say, 'Good horses are like my children, only better behaved'."

"Ha," whispers Spud, "My ma says almost that exact same thing."

"That Coati is a smart woman."

"Yep."

"What do you think? Go look now or wait fer mornin'?" I ask.

"Good moonlight, we just don't know who threw the bomb at us, if thet is what it were."

"Coulda been a crick rock, too. They can explode in a fire if there is water inside."

"True. Wolf an' I used to blow 'em up on purpose."

"Crazy boys."

"Yep. We loved 'til I got hit with a piece. Made a good size cut in my side. I screamed the whole time Coati was sewin' it up. She didn't use nothin' to help with the pain. Evil mom trick. Kinda cured us. 'Course, we found other trouble to git into."

I walk over to the tack pile and scare up a halter and rope for Joe. I tie him and then I move bedding into a little clearing in the brush.

In the meanwhile, Spud has taken a turn around the area.

He returns and says, "Not a thing, too dark fer sign."

"No rock shards, wasn't a crick rock," I say.

"Damn, musta been people then."

"Where do you suppose Wolf and Buzz went?"

"Shit, crazy Injin, who knows?" says Spud. "He'll likely show up in the mornin' with Buzz, all the other horses, a few dead bodies and a sly grin."

"Yep. You sleep, I'll take the first watch." I say. "Horses might just feed their way back, if they didn't run all the way home."

"Or get stole," says Spud realistically.

"Shit, that is true, Joe won't let a stranger catch him up. Lotta horses though, an offer of tasty grain..."

"Thank the spirits fer Joe, then," says Spud as he crawls into our double wide soogans.

This time I pick a spot across the fire from Spud. Up against a big tree trunk on the shady side facing away from the firelight. I untie Joe from the tree, then tie the end of his lead rope to my ankle with a slip knot, just to be sure. Next I lay on Wolf's empty soogans, throw the blankets over my legs and settle down to sleep with one eye open. Joe is my ever-alert night guard. A good horse is a better guard than me any day of the week. If he feels intruders are coming, he'll tug on my ankle. It's an old Apache trick.

"Don't step on me buddy," I remind him as I close my eyes.

***

Morning comes none too soon. I can hear Spud rattling pans.

"I feel better in the daylight," I say.

Spud is looking just past me. I follow his gaze.

"Oh, did I forget to mention? Joe likes to cuddle." Joe is lying on his side behind me. We are back to back. "Horse puts out a lot of heat. Feels like a thousand pound hot water bottle."

"Hope he don't roll over."

"Now yore makin' me nervous."

I scramble up. Yowch, that would hurt.

Wolf rides up, long black hair swinging in time with his horse's walk.

"Where you been, brother?" asks Spud.

As he dismounts, he says, "Man is like river. Gotta keep flowing where force of nature take him."

I hand him a cuppa and say, "Grits on," as I wave my hand toward the skillet.

"What'd you find?" asks Spud, trying once again for an informative answer..

"Spirit deer shine bright in moonlight," says Wolf.

"No shit? You already found him?" I ask.

"No, just tellin'," he says and smiles. "If we find in dark, him show up fine in full moon."

"Sheeit."

"If he is up and grazin' out in the open," says Spud.

"Mm-hm."

"I was actually referrin' to the explosion we had here."

Wolf looks over quizzically and says, "Explosion?"

"Shit, our fire blew to hell and gone, sure was loud here in camp," I say.

"Crick rock?"

"Nope, no shards," I say.

"Buzz play trick?"

Spuds says, "Ain't seen Buzz since we saw you last. Or the horses."

"Horses?"

"All gone but Joe and the one yore sittin' on."

"I'll go take another look fer 'em," I jump on Joe bareback and head out for a circle.

As I ride out, I hear Wolf, who is busy eating breakfast, tell Spud, "Take Scout."

I go over to our trail coming into camp, since horses tend to head for their home pasture when spooked. Nothing walked there since we rode in the night before.

Spud trots up beside me and says, "I'll go left of the trail, you right."

"'Kay."

We cover a fair amount of ground to no avail.

Eventually, we hear Wolf shout, "Whoop."

That is the signal to go in for a reconnoiter.

# 34 Wolf Bait

Wolf has finished breakfast and hung the food out of the reach of bears. He has also bundled the bedding, tack and such under the tarpaulins and put them up in the crotch of a big willow tree. He leads us to where he scouted, out into an area on the backside of camp.

"Here, by the crick, one print, go into water," he says. "Likely Buzz. But only one hoof print show, hard to tell."

I look and agree, "Same size hoof as Buzz' horse."

"All we got to go by," says Spud.

We head out. Wolf is afoot and closest to the water, on the far side from where the tracks went into the crick. Spud is on the west side. I am farther out from Wolf, on the east side of the crick looking fer sign leaving the water.

"Three loose horses and Buzz riding the fourth, gotta be tracks. Unless they flew," I say.

Wolf looks blandly at me.

"Can Bãngh fly?"

He shrugs.

"Yeah, no. Hell, Buzz wouldn't of blew up nothin' in the fire." I say, "My reasoning makes no sense."

"Mm-hm. Maybe alien crazy, like Wolf say."

"Yeah, and the loose horses likely went another way. We just missed the sign in the grass. Long walk home fer Spud," I say.

"Annie not notice? Wolf walking. Spud ride Wolf horse. Cowboy never walk," Wolf says and smiles at his own joke.

"You two are somethin'," I say.

Indian summer, just as Wolf predicted, is hard upon us. The day is warming to extry hot and the crick is arisin' fast.

"Woo ta," says Wolf as he jumps out of the way of a six-inch wall of water plowing its way down the draw.

"That 'un snuck up behind ya," I say, laughing.

We are heading downstream on the crick, below the beaver dam, about four miles below by now.

I say, "Still no sign of the tracks leavin' the water. Did we miss 'em?"

"Wolf hear big water ahead, could be a swim in this weather," says Wolf, then he squats down. "Ho. Here on bank. Big foot tracks here, same tread as in Buffalo Spirit Cave. Man get off horse. Pee on bush here. Small print here, woman. Squat here, pee. Ride horse double. They remount and continue toward river. Horse have big hooves."

I ride over and look at the sign. "Alright. Now, we are gettin' somewheres."

We move on, food fer thought there. Beaver Crick is still rising. As the day gets progressively warmer, more snow melts into it.

We get to where the crick joins a large roiling river. It is swollen to flood stage with the snowmelt and running with debris. Some huge logs are heading past as we pull up to near the edge.

I look back at the racing water. Time to turn back.

"Whoop," yells Spud. We look across the crick. He is waving his arms and pointing. There is a body on one of the logs on the far side of the channel.

"Is that Buzz?" I ask, kicking Joe over to the river's edge.

"It is someone," says Wolf.

We all boil in at the same time. Wolf swims by, faster than Joe. Spud, on Scout, is ahead of us both, as he started in across the crick, downstream from us. But now Scout is floundering, so Spud slips off and grabs his tail. Takes a horse but a few paddles to learn to swim, but the current and floating debris complicate things. Another log goes past me. Downstream, it knocks Spud loose from Scout. I am still aboard Joe, but have lost sight of the log with the body.

Joe hits a shallow bar, finds his footing and stands up for a few seconds. I have a quick bird's eye view. I can see Wolf swimming strongly for the body, which is still lying across the log. Joe slips off the roiling sand bar and we head downstream toward Wolf. I didn't have time to spot Spud.

I see Wolf pull up out of the water midstream. Is he on a rock? No, Scout's head bobs up. Wolf is in the saddle.

Joe slows suddenly and pins his ears, looking back past me.

I start to look back to see what is going on, just as Spud says, "Easy, Joe, just me hitchin' a ride."

Horses are not real fond of having their tails pulled upon without warning. Fortunately, Joe doesn't kick him.

We are beset by jagged tree limbs, flotsam and other things I don't even want to identify. Spud is safer now with Joe in front of him, breaking a water trail. The current is so strong we are mostly being pushed downstream by the roiling water. We are not making much headway getting across. It will take quite a while to reach the other shore. As we round a bend, the riverbed drops and we are in a small rapids.

I hear a cough and look to the right.

"Here," says a voice. Wolf is just downstream in the eddy.

Spud swims up on Joe's right side and pulls his head over to help him turn upstream toward Wolf.

"Don't try to climb up on me, pal," he says.

I direct rein to the right, pulling Joe's head around, to help steer. I also frog kick with my left leg.

"If we can get over..." I start to say.

A standing wave drops a big gulp right in my kisser. I kick, cough and steer my damndest. The current pushes us farther and farther down the river. I slip out of the saddle and try floating free on Joe's left side, pushing on the saddle horn and kicking with both legs. This seems to work the best.

Spud, Joe and I are putting all the push we can into it. Joe is the main propulsion. He wants, more than anything, to get over to his equine companion.

Finally, Spud gets to a sandbar and stands up, still holding onto Joe's headstall. Joe's butt swings out into the current. I just manage to hang on to the horn as his barrel tries to mow me under. His big horse butt swings on around toward me. He ends up ass end downstream on the edge of the quiet water.

I can finally stand, too, in the neutral zone between the current and the eddy. We are among massive swirls of debris. Spud pulls us on into the upstream trending eddy. Wolf is there. He has his rope on the log. Scout is doing his roping horse best to hold it in place as the current tries to swing the log back out into the river. Wolf is at last getting close enough to grab the body. Spud and Joe, with me back aboard, swim over to help.

"Here." I toss my rope to Spud. He wraps the loop over the fat end of the log. I take a dally on the saddle horn and Joe pulls it toward shore. Spud gets himself over to Wolf. The two of them grab the body and take it to the riverbank. I undo my rope and Spud goes back out and frees Scout's rope just before the current grabs the log and pulls it back out into the raging torrent.

We stumble into shore, slogging through mud and debris.

Wolf is doing mouth to mouth on the body, so I guess he is at least close to being alive.

"You need help?" Spud asks. Wolf, mouth busy, waves him away.

Spud and I drop the shivering horse's reins and get busy gathering anything dry enough to burn. You ever been in a snowmelt river? Not warm and comfy at all.

I walk over by Wolf with a pile of dry needles and grass, along with a few tiny sticks.

I kneel by him saying, "I carry steel wool in my saddle bags fer just such an occasion." A match lights the fine waterproof steel quickly. It's high heat gets our wood slivers lit and they warm the damp kindling.

Wolf just keeps working.

Spud walks up with some bigger wood and soon, hellza poppin'. We take off our wet clothes and do some jumping jacks to get the blood flowing. We jog in place, rubbing our hands over our arms, before the growing fire.

I look at Spud, "How is he?"

He shrugs his shoulders and says, "Pretty beat up."

He is covered in goose bumps. I look down. Oh. Yeah. So am I. Shivering, too.

As soon as we can take it, we run out for more wood. The sun is still warm, which is an immense help.

Once the flames are about three feet high, I go to see if I can do anything to help Wolf. Spud runs out for more wood. We will need a big pile to get us thoroughly dry.

The two horses have spread out to graze. We can deal with them later. They, being much larger and tougher, are easily warmed by the sun. We do need to get the tack off them and dry the saddle blankets to use for our own warmth.

Wolf is still bent over the body doing something.

I lean down and ask, "Is he breathing?"

"No," says Wolf.

"Fuck."

Wolf continues, "She is breathing."

"She?"

"Girl."

"Not Buzz then."

"No. Not Buzz. Small girl."

"Oh, okay. Someone you know?"

"Stranger."

"What can I do? Do we need to get her over by the fire?"

"Fire?" Wolf asks and looks around. His was completely engrossed with saving the girl. "Oh. Yes."

I grab her feet, Wolf her shoulders and we carry her closer. Her face is blue from the cold, also badly swollen and bruised. There is a rasping breathy rhythm of air flowing in and out of her lungs. Spud walks up with our dusters, which were rolled inside the rain slickers. They are wet around the edges, but have some dry area in the middle. I pull the soaked clothes off of the girl and we put the driest of the dusters over the girl, on the side away from the blaze.

After a few more minutes, Spud says, "We got enough coals now. Let's make a second fire behind, then we will be warmed by both."

He grabs two green sticks and using them like chopsticks picks up coals and makes a new fire base on the other side of our patient. I pull some big half burned branches out and move them across, too.

Wolf says, "Annie, lay by her. Share warmth."

I lie down and wrap my arms around her. Feeling her various parts to be sure the fire don't barbecue nothing important.

"Lucky to be alive," I say.

Wolf looks up from disrobing and nods. He is busy struggling out of his dripping, clinging clothes.

Spud has gotten the horses. He leads them over, unsaddles and turns them loose. He unties the saddle strings and lays out all the stuff, emptying the saddlebags also. Then, he stretches a rope between two trees and hangs coats, saddle blankets and such on it to dry. Wolf carries in a big flat rock for a makeshift cook's table. He lays it with the flat surface angling toward the fire and spreads the food on its surface to dry.

After he finishes, Spud comes over to look at our nearly drowned rat. He squints and even turns ther head a bit to try different angles.

"Damn it, she's a mess," he says, and looks at me. "Her face is terrible swole' up already. Looks like she's been through hell."

"Yeah. And, man was she cold. Must have been out there a long time, getting tumbled in all that flotsam."

Spud spears some more sticks into the ground, tying them together to make tripods. He hangs our coats and clothes closer to the fire. They will continue to dry as the sun gets lower and the cold starts to creep in. The girl and I are getting slowly warmer. I am getting bored though, laying still and cuddling with our hypothermic friend.

So I natter.

"Shit, Spud, you look as much like Buzz as any of us. You Bãngh?" I ask to entertain myself

"Damned if I know. Wouldn't mind havin' some of them powers." Spud is still jumpin' and huggin' himself between chores trying to stop his shivers. "Right now, the power to stay warm would be awesome."

"What exactly are these powers ever'one talks about?"

"Hells bells girl, if I was Bãngh, I reckon I would know, right? Can ya have powers and not know it? 'Sides, we all think you are the one who is the Bãngha," Spud adds jokingly.

"Mebbe so. Now, if I had powers what would I go fer?" I figger fer a bit. "Oh. Yeah, I got one. Beamin'. I could transport myself to a warm dry cabin."

"Yep," says Spud. "I'd go fer that."

I sober and say, "I wonder how long this poor lady was in the river?"

"Almost too long."

"True. Where did Wolf get to?"

"He run off a bit ago. Gettin' his blood flowin', I'm thinkin'," says Spud as he throws more logs on the fires.

I spot Wolf coming around a tree and point with my chin, saying, "There he is."

Wolf is heading toward us, running. He stops and picks something up.

"Sucker's gatherin' dinner," says Spud. "I'd best go he'p."

Wolf is rustling us up some wild food. He is impressive, running between edible plants, picking our dinner as he dries off. Spud appears off to the right, doing the same. The amazing survival brothers.

I am still cuddling with the nearly drowned girl and rubbing circulation back into her limbs. Occasionally I get up to rearrange the drying saddle blankets, and clothes. And to stoke the fire. Finally, I have an actual dry warm blanket. I cover our foundling with it to hold her body heat in.

Wolf walks in with a bundle of greens and such.

"Ain't much," he says.

"We got jerky and pemmican from our saddle bags. Likely wet after our swim. Needs to be dried out or eaten."

"Some dried apricots on Scout, too."

"I don't know about you, but I feel lucky to've survived that 'un."

"'Twas a good day to die," says Wolf, "but a day of big challenges is an even better day to live."

Spud comes in and adds his treasures to our pile.

"Acorns," he says, cracking one and handing it to me.

We three sit between the two fires and eat our jerky, raw greens and acorns. For dessert, we have the sweet pemmican and apricots.

The girl is much warmer but still unconscious as we settle down between the long beds of coals to rest ourselves.

We have stockpiled wood on each end of the fires, to add during the night. Plus, all our clothes and coats on, although they are also not totally dry yet. Our body heat plus the fires will finish the job. We will be warm enough.

By bedtime, we're feeling very lucky to have even one newly dry saddle blanket apiece. Sleeping two abreast helps us share heat and save firewood.

"Mm." I say as I lay an odoriferous saddle blanket over myself. "I fucking love the smell of horseflesh at bedtime."

# 35 Bad

I'm crawling up a steep incline in the pitch dark, dragging a heavy weight. The ground under me starts to shake wildly. I hear Shaz scream. Something licks my face...

Claustrophobic nightmares dog me through the night. I'd rather dream of sexy men ravishing me. The scary horrific scenes though, aren't enough to keep me warm under my thirty-inch wide saddle blanket when the fires die down. It is a cold one and a blanket that wide just don't quite reach the ground on either side. There are lotta spots where the freezing air seeps under. In the end, the cold wakes me fully and I reach to grab another log and throw it on the coals. Not a terrible night's sleep I tell myself, considering the alternative.

Hours later, I sit up to the sound of Spud dropping more firewood into the fire. The sun is just coming up.

"Damn, is that freakin' snow?" I ask, looking around at the white ground. I am my usual cheerful morning self.

"Heavy hoarfrost," Spud says, rubbing his hands together over the fire. "Thick, ain't it?"

I can see the horses grazing nearby. They have frost on their manes, backs and tail docks.

"Not a warm mornin'," I say. "Is that coffee?"

"Mormon tea," says Wolf.

Wolf has filled the two cups we have with water and twigs and set them by the coals. He pulls them out of the fire with his gloves, which survived the swim also. Fortunately, Wolf and I had our winter gear and some snack food tied and stowed around our saddles and in our saddlebags. And, luckily, our rifles stayed in their scabbards.

All Spud has is his coat and gloves which he had tied onto Scout when he shed them midmorning. That is it, besides his hat, pistol and the clothes on his back. And maybe a knife or two. We had planned to return to the cache camp for the night, not go swimming.

We eat some of this and that. Then, we roust out to look around and assess our situation.

We meet in a few minutes, back at the fire.

"Okay," says Spud. "The girl is still conked out. The good news is her heart's still beatin'.

The fires have heated the ground up between them, but the air is icy, so I examine her quickly.

"I can't feel any fractures or nothin' obvious. Found a cut on her head. Could have broke ribs, or fractures or cracked bones but they are still in alignment. She ain't coughin' blood. All her other contusions are not doin' much bleedin'. Hell of a bunch of bruisin'. She's blue 'bout ever'where."

"That current sure beat the shit out of her. The rocks, logs, branches were all bouncin' off of her and each other," says Spud.

"River down some this mornin'," says Wolf. "All other gear and food on far side."

He has walked in with three already cleaned and skinned grouse dangling from his belt. He sets about poking a stick through them and then hangs the kabob of birds over the fire. We watch them cook. When they are brown, we chow down hungrily.

Spud finishes his share and says, "Maybe I'll head over to them hills. See if I kin get a bird's eye gander of what's around us. If it warms up again, we may not be able to get back across to retrieve the rest of our possibles."

"Horses need a rest if they can get it. They need to fill their bellies a few times," I say. "We can get a travois together for our friend here. We walk, she gets dragged in bumpy luxury behind a horse's rump. If she don't get kicked in the head by him."

"Should we build raft, go for food at last camp?" asks Wolf.

"With a raft, we could take the girl across, swim the two horses while they tow the raft. Less debris now, at least until the river rises above where it's been," says Spud.

"You wanna try now?" I ask.

"Takes time to build a raft. With the sun, the water will be rising again by the time it is built. Better we reconnoiter some, give the girl here some time to recover. We could build a high bed on the raft to keep her dry and try it during high water today. But, if anything goes wrong with the raft and she gets wet and chilled again, could be the death of her," says Spud. "I say we go early tomorrow, if it is a cold morning, the water will be the lowest. We might be able to wade, make things easier. Annie, you okay stayin' here with her? You seem to know about doctorin'."

"Some, not much," I say.

"More'n me, I expect. Wolf will go scout a bit whilst I climb the hill. Then we'll gather wood fer a raft and travois."

While the boys are off afoot scouting and the horses are filling their bellies, I make sure that the girl stays warm. I check her pockets for food or anything else that might prove useful. Her pockets prove to be empty. No knives, no papers. No pistol or belt either. Anyone unarmed in this country gotta be a dude. Of course, she could have lost them in the river.

I gather firewood. Then take a closer look at Wolf's saddle. I see the wily redskin has a hatchet in a nice leather holder attached to the billets under the saddlebags. Armed with it, I walk around, find a good log or two and chop them to length for our wood projects.

I can't wander too far in case the girl wakes up. She's bound to be dehydrated as all get out.

I drag the logs back to camp and say a "Hallo" as I walk up in case either of the boys is back or the girl is awake. But, no boys.

As I walk in, the girl groans. I go over and pillow her head. Her eyes roll around a bit inside her swollen eyelids. I prop her up and offer a drink. By golly, a bit of it goes down. She groans more. Her bruised swollen mouth likely don't care fer my putting the cup up against it.

She mumbles, "Took our maps."

"Maps?" I ask.

"Newzona," she says.

Then she conks back out.

I do know of some maps. Huh. Seems like too much of a coincidence. Dang. Could this be about the map and paper cache we found in the root cellar? Naw.

Well, maybe.

I go chop down and limb a few more dead trees for raft logs. I find some really nice standing dead lodgepole pine to use for the long travois poles. Dry wood floats better and weighs less. For quick and dirty, it is just the ticket.

Next tour through camp, the girl wakes up long enough for a gastric aspiration.

"That's fancy doctor talk fer pukin'," I tell the quickly losing consciousness girl, as I lay her back down. "Michael's learnin' is a rubbin' off on me."

He's taught me enough that I have also been keeping the patient on her side. So that a gastric aspiration won't roll down her windpipe and drown her.

She don't care. She was a damn sight colder than I was after we got her out of the river yesterday. I wonder just how much longer she could've been in and still survived it. Some kind of body mass and temperature versus water speed and temperature type math. I guess.

The horses are happily chewing away on the high fall grass, relishing the ripe seed heads. Once danger is over and a horse gets his head down and rips off that first mouthful of food, his life is perfect. They truly live in the now.

Unlike us poor naked apes, horses live outdoors and have an all-weather coat. Plus their favorite food grows in giant prairies, no preparation needed. Maybe I'd best come back as a horse in the next life. I sure do worship the handsome suckers.

Lunch is not much to brag about. The pemmican is welcome nourishment. I keep an eye peeled for critters, but see nothing. I hope Wolf has luck with the snares he made and set last night. Rabbit ain't got much meat, but a mouthful would be nice. The boys each took a rifle in case they spotted any big game. The grouse Wolf caught this morning sure went down easy. And I am boiling the bones, with some salt I found in a pouch, for broth. Should go down slick as a whistle once our patient is ready for it.

I am wondering what to use to make a lash rope for the raft, as we will need our cow ropes fer pullin it across. I always hate to cut up a good broke in roping rope. Likely the cowboy and Injin brothers will have a way, this being their planet and all.

Wolf walks in, toting a load over his shoulders, as I am limbing more logs.

He says, "Nice logs. Work good. How is girl?"

He drops a deer carcass on the woodpile. Then he squats down and starts cutting thin strips of venison for fast cooking. I go over and help.

"She barely opened her eyes, then they rolled up into her head. She has a hell of a bump there where that big cut is on her skull. I shaved her hair kinda crudely with my knife. I washed it a bit and put butterfly bandages on it. She hardly noticed, rolled her head about but mostly slept right through. Bad concussion, I think. When she did open her eyes it didn't seem like she could even focus. I was able to pour a swallow of water in that she gulped down. Threw up after. Been sleepin' the rest of the day.

"She did say a few words. About maps, someone stole her maps, Newzona she said."

"Maps. Maybe the ones we got?" Wolf asks.

"Could be. We need to get her to Sir Jacob and Michael in any case. They got the doctor skills. Think we can do that?"

"Only fail, if fail to try," says Wolf. "Must tackle hardship head on."

"Okay, guess we'd best follow yore advice."

Wolf nods and says, "Best advice possible."

I don't bother to tease him about boasting, figuring he is likely to be right. Instead, I ask, "What was yore scout trip like?"

"Wolf see spirit deer. Him all alone. After many hours think maybe have to shoot spirit deer. Not want to, but we hungry, cold river swim burn up reserves."

"And?"

"Brown deer show up. Save white friend."

"Oh. An allegory of sorts."

"Mm."

"Glad it worked out," I say, shoving a piece of fresh barbecued, medium rare deer meat in my mouth and chewing gratefully.

Wolf swallows a chunk of meat and says. "Wolf also find wheel track going down trail."

"Wheel?"

"Mm-hm."

# 36 The Rub

"Wagon?" I ask.

Wolf shakes his head, "Only one wheel, no other track. Have tread like Pi car, rubber. But narrow."

"Shit, civilization."

"Brother know Pi, all them fancy planets. Spud come back, maybe he know," says Wolf. "We strip out venison, hang for jerky, save some for today meals."

Damn, I'm thinkin', long speech fer Wolf. He must be confabulated.

"Yore thinkin' progress might overtake yore fine wilderness world," I say.

"Mm-hm. Annie is, also."

"Damn straight."

We chew on that a bit, along with our delicious meat, a self-propelled wheeled vehicle in our beloved horse only wilderness country is a somber reality check.

"How narrow?"

Wolf holds his fingers maybe three inches apart, "This."

"They is a thing called a bicycle. Got no motor, but two wheels in line, one in front of the other. Maybe one of them?"

Wolf shakes his head and repeats, "One wheel. No horse prints. No human prints."

The girl moans and rolls her head. She rearranges her arms and legs a bit. I go over and lift her head up. I tilt my canteen and get several swallows more or less down her throat. Her swallow reflex is improved and she almost focuses an eyeball on my face fer a bit. She passes back out, eyes rolling up into her head. Creepy.

"I ain't really no nurse," I tell Wolf dispiritedly, picking up a stick and drawing circles in the dirt. "Hey, you ever been to the Circus Planet?"

Wolf shakes his head in the negatory and says, holding up one finger and then two, "Rock, Pi."

"Oh yeah. I knew that. Anyhoo, I met a gal once who had been there. She said they had bicycles with one wheel there. People sat on a seat right atop the wheel. It had pedals to move it. The rider had to balance to stay upright. Hard to imagine. I mean you gotta balance a regular two-wheel bike already, I got to try one of them as a kid. Quite the challenge. But one wheel? Dayum."

Wolf skins out the carcass. I cut a long limber willow to use for stretching and drying the skin. This will solve the raft and travois lashing problem.

We spend the afternoon companionably cutting and hanging meat to dry, feeling a lot better about our prospects with the newly filled larder. We even find time fer a little hanky panky.

Spud rides in not too long before dark. After caring for Scout, he joins us at the fire. He looks totally disgusted.

Wolf reads his mind and says, "Wheel?"

Spud nods.

"Cocksuckers," he says.

"What is it?" I ask as I pull my green stick full of cooked meat strips out of the fire and hand it to him.

"Ugh."

"Ugh?"

"Yep. Unmanned ground hunter," says Spud between bites. "Technically UGV, 'V' for vehicle, but here on the Rock we call 'em Ughs. They are illegal here. If they are here, they are clandestine and hunting something or someone. Ain't no hobbyist playin', it's just plain trouble. Just one wheel with a brain thingy on top. Rolls down the trail. It takes pictures and such. Jacob pointed one out to me once on Pi."

"So, let's blow it to smithereens."

"Considered that. Decided on patience, be best to figger out who is runnin' it and what they are up to first. Right, brother?" asks Spud.

"Ugh," says Wolf.

"See? Wolf knows their name," Spud smiles as he says it.

Wolf looks over at me, "Not worry Annie, Injin tougher than wheel thing."

"How is that there girl doin'?" asks Spud, nodding toward the sleeping form across the fire from us.

"Fucked up, but improving. She drank several swallows of water earlier. Most yet. She could use a' intravenous drip," I say shrugging. "What ya gonna do?"

"Yeah, not the Center here," says Spud. "Like Mose says, 'we gots what we gots."

"Maybe swift kick fix wheel."

"Thanks, Wolf. You got wheels on yore mind," I say.

"Mm-hm. Wheel trespass on Injin nation. Close to sacred spirit deer."

"You spot him for real this time?" asks Spud.

"Uh huh."

I ask, "Will there be a spirit cave nearby for this one, too?"

Wolf shrugs and looks at the stars. Consulting the spirits, maybe?

We sit around looking downcast fer a while and eventually head off to our saddle blanket 'beds' with dark thoughts in our brains.

"Not worry, Annie. Belly full, horses fat, all good now," counsels Wolf.

Spud scooches over and wraps an arm around me. "Ground's warmer tonight and we are completely dry. Sleep tight darlin'."

Okay, only my thoughts are dark. The boys are right. I ain't even comatose, unlike our new friend.

I am mollified and, with Spud's expert assistance, nicely fulfilled. I drift happily off to sleep.

# 37 Ugh

"Holy shit!" whispers Spud as he jumps up into a squat. He peers around, gun in hand.

I sit up with my pistol in hand and look around, confused. I don't hear or see anything.

"What?" I ask quietly.

"Shh. They just ran through here."

'Splash.'

"The river," says Spud and he heads off at a trot.

I look around our little camp. Everyone is gone except the unconscious girl. What the hell? I shove on my socks and boots and follow Spud.

"Ow," I whisper as I find the bushes and a branch slaps me in the face. Damn clouds have moved in, it's dark.

"Over here," murmurs Spud. I stumble on a stick or something in the dark. He grabs my hand and leads me over behind a rock. Wolf is already there, staring intently over his rifle sights at the river.

"There," he says pointing with his chin, which is close enough I can see it. Spud has my rifle.

"What?" I ask.

"Sh. Wait," says Spud.

I wait. I stay shushed. I wait more. Am I grouchy when rousted out of bed in the middle of the night? Yes. And groggy. And wanting to close my eyes and drift back off. Cold, too.

"Arrrrr!" growls something out in front of us.

Then I see two figures. They rise up out of the mist, grappling with each other. They are fighting like rabid dogs. There is a lot of growling and some unintelligible exclamations.

"Buzz?" I ask.

"No, one's a girl from the sound of it. It started right outside our camp. They run out here before I even got my gun out," says Spud.

"Who's the other one?"

"Dunno," he adds.

Wolf whispers, "He rode in on your horse, brother."

"Jinx?"

"Mm-hm."

I say, "Dang."

"Okay, one's a horsejacker. Nice we found Jinx though." Spud looks at Wolf. "Too dark to see much."

"Hm."

"Got quiet," I say. "These two kill each other already?"

"Wolf go see," Wolf says as he crawls off.

"Wait, Wolf, they might be layin' fer ya," I say.

Wolf keeps moving.

"Wolf is careful, Annie, relax," says Spud. "I've got a bead drawn out there."

"Maybe we should lay down some cover fire."

"That is not the definition of relax."

"Okay, damn. I like Wolf, would hate to lose him."

"Speakin' to the choir, darlin'," mumbles Spud. "Quiet now, he's gettin' close."

The clouds have parted somewhat. I look down my puny pistol sights, but the combatants are down behind a giant jack pile of logs, out of sight. There is a bit more light about, so I keep watching.

Wolf looks back and waves at us.

"I'm movin' up," murmurs Spud. "Cover me 'til I wave you in."

"'Okay."

He heads off in a low slouch.

I flex some muscles here and there to wake my body up. It's the middle of the damn night, is all my body has to say. Where's the damn adrenaline?

'Bang! Bang!'

There it is. I'm finally alert. Still nothing to see. I blink to get my eyes to stay focused as the clouds begin to thin out and the moonlight brightens.

I hear more grappling now. The fight is back on. I hear growls and someone saying 'you fucking cocksucker' and other such language.

Spud waves me up. I can't move too fast. My legs didn't get the adrenaline, apparently. They are half-asleep. Geez, I'm in great shape for a gunfight.

I get up to Spud's position. We are in a nasty jumble of flood flotsam that the receding water has left. The big logs provide good cover, but going anywhere is a crawl over and through proposition. Wolf waves from off to our left and adds some fancy finger signals. Spud moves left and sends me right.

I scramble and scrunch my way over, but not so far as to get downrange of my friends. I pick a good hole behind a three-foot diameter log and lay my arms across it to make a solid rest for my pistol. I have lost sight of Wolf again, but I can see the two combatants struggling away like drunkards. They have been at it long enough to be pretty well spent.

From my position, what with the misty fog along the river, they look like two ghosts, grappling in long dusters. No way to pick which to shoot. They are leaning on each other more than anything. Their punches are weak. After a bit they break apart and both fall to their knees, gulping in air and breathing out like steam engine whistles. They get up slowly and go back to it. One rolls over a couple of times and comes up with a revolver. He aims it toward the other and...

Suddenly, Wolf, on Scout, comes swarming in like a panther. The combatants don't seem to notice him until he is in the mix. Scout knocks them apart with his weight. They fall and Wolf hops down, revolver ready.

Spud sprints in to help. I hold my sights on the one on my side of Scout. Wolf is aiming at the other one. They are both talking up a storm, but I am too far away to make any of it out.

Spud gets in and grabs the one I am watching. He pulls out a piggin string, ties the guy's hands in front of him and makes him sit. Then he waves me in.

I walk in to find Wolf and Spud still holding guns on them. Both are on the ground, hands tied, wheezing from their efforts.

"Hello, Roxy," says the smaller one.

I squint at the talker, who is wearing a familiar shade of poisonous iridescent red lipstick. Oh shit, it's that fucking boyfriend stealing bitch.

"Crystal?" I ask, incredulous. "Fuck me."

"Yes, it fucking well its me, asswipe," she says, scowling at me.

Polite, too.

"You know her, Annie?" asks Spud.

"Unfortunately," I say. "I actually worked alongside this bitch on Terrania."

Crystal spits at me. I step aside.

"Missed," I say.

"Looks like you are old friends," says Spud dryly.

"We damn sure were, the best of friends, 'til she double crossed me," I say. "Don't trust her, she is bad to the bone."

Spud looks hard at me and says, "Okay."

"Who is this guy?" I point at her opponent.

"He is a freakin' horse thief," says Crystal. "Dropped out of a tree, pushed me off my horse and lit out fer the hills."

"Your horse?" asks Spud.

A male voice chimes in, "She is the thief."

We look over at her opponent.

"And you are?" asks Spud.

"Zebulon Pike, pleasure to meet you," he says and starts to stand up and extend his tied hands in an offer to shake hands with Spud. He winces, groans and sits back down, rubbing his leg.

I walk over and look.

"Broke?" I ask.

"Hurts like a sum bitch," he says.

"Let me look."

Zebulon lays back, grimacing with pain. I ease his pants leg up and look. Don't even need to touch it.

"Ankle is swollen already," I say. "At the very least, it's a bad sprain."

"I hurt it swimming the river," says Zeb. "My wife disappeared. I tried, but couldn't find her. She maybe..."

"I looked and looked," he says, moaning. Then he puts his face in his hands and sobs. "Oh, Trixie."

"Come on, soon's you get yore wits back, we'll head to camp," says Spud.

"Zebulon here is gonna need he'p," I say.

"No," he says. "I can walk."

He stands carefully and tries a step.

"Ow."

Zeb stumbles when his ankle refuses to support him. He sits back down fast and looks up at us.

"Crap," he says. Then looks at me and says, "Pardon my French."

"No need, I speak French, too," I say. "What brings you out here Zebulon?

"Folks call me Zeb," says Zebulon. "I was named after the old time explorer. I am leading a party to Newzona. Someone stole our maps. We have been searching for weeks."

"Shee-it," says Crystal. "High toned nonsense fer a thief."

The brothers have been keeping their rifles trained on them both.

"Okay, I'll help Zeb," says Spud.

He hands my rifle back and says, "Thanks fer the loan."

I sling it across my shoulder with one hand, keeping my pistol pointed at Crystal with the other. Spud unties Zeb's hands and offers an arm to help reduce the weight on his ankle.

Crystal holds her hands out, hoping I will untie them. I shake my head no.

"You think I will try to escape?" Crystal asks.

"Please do," I hiss.

"Perhaps you will," Spud tells her. "But with the Annie trainin' her gun on you, the only way out is a bullet."

Crystal says, "I didn't do nothin'. Zebulon here is the thief."

"Crystal..." I start to say, but Spud interrupts.

He says, "Let's just concentrate on getting back to the fire. We can figure it all out there."

I wiggle my pistol barrel at Crystal some more.

Wolf looks over at me questioningly.

I murmur, "Like I said, bad to the bone."

"Mm-hm."

We trudge back to camp. It is way past my rollover and go back to sleep time. Wolf stops on the outskirts, before we get close enough to the fires to ruin his night vision. Whereupon, he proceeds to set himself up for guard duty.

When we get to camp Spud lowers Zeb onto a log. Then he throws sticks on the fires for light and we settle down.

Restless, I tie Crystal's ankles together so we don't have to watch her so closely. Then, I dig a candle out of my saddlebags.

"Best to see a man's eyes when he answers questions," I say. I strike a match, hold it to the wick and hand Spud the lit candle.

We walk over to the new guy and look at him.

"Why did you steal the horse?" I ask.

Zeb looks at the ground, "I found the horse. He was loose, grazing. Reins dragging, still bridled. I was goin' to go look fer his owner. But first I needed to find Trixie. We got separated trying to cross. I didn't think the water could be that fast and strong. I never crossed a river before. I was riding the horse up and down the bank of the river, looking fer my wife, when that Crystal jumped on me from off of a big log and threw me off. I reached up and grabbed her leg and pulled her down, too. Then we started wrestling."

He starts coughing over and over. Like he is going to hawk up something nasty.

"I swallowed a lot of water. Like to drown myself," he says, then starts coughing again.

"Hey, buddy. Here take my arm. You need to look at this lady over here," says Spud.

"Lady?" he asks. "Could it be my wife?"

"Dunno. Let's go see."

He extends an arm and helps Zeb to his feet. They walk in between the fire beds. Spud lifts the blanket back from the face of the girl we saved. I hold the candle so Zeb can see her face.

"Oh my gods! Trixie! Trixie!" he says and starts to cry.

Trixie rolls her head slowly and groans but doesn't awaken.

"Is she okay? Why isn't she waking up?"

"She got pretty beat up out there. We pulled her off a log in the river. Cold, hurt. She needs rest," I say. "You too. Here lay down next to her, get some rest. Keep her warm. Don't jostle her."

We get Zeb down and throw his duster over the two of them. Then we return to Crystal, who we tie to a tree so we can sleep. She lays down next to the trunk, duster buttoned for warmth.

She says, "I got halfway across the river when a big log knocked into me and I lost hold of my horse. Later, I caught Zeb riding him. He is the thief."

"He is my horse," says Spud. "One of you stole him from me. Sounds like you took him from our camp first."

"No, I found him saddled."

"Crystal, yore story is changing already," I say. "You always were a forgetful liar. I know you well enough to know that you are up to some kind of no good."

Spud and I head away to our blankets.

I turn and ask Spud, "You know of Zeb? He come from some ranch nearby?"

"Naw, nobody lives around here thet I know of," says Spud, "and I pretty much know all the country folk. Not that many folk on the Rock at all. Might be three hundred of us includin' dogs and cats. Not many consider us a planet worth settlin' on. Keeps it nice and quiet. They must be pilgrims. I heard that a bunch came in a while back."

"From where?"

"Terrania, I heard."

"Shit."

"What's wrong with Terrania?"

"Michael and I got warrants there, thanks to that evil bitch Crystal."

"Hey, darlin'," Spud whispers, then kisses me. "Relax, Wolf and I are watchin' over ya."

"But..."

"We could be up all the rest of the night talkin' and trying to sort this out. I say we get some shut eye ourselves," says Spud. "I'll take the second watch."

So we call it a night. Good thing, cause it seems like sunrise comes way too early.

# 38 Deuce

"Least we got the buzzards that stole one of our horses," says Spud.

We are still laying under our blankets, not anxious to emerge into the chilly air.

"Crystal? Not the first time I've known her to steal a horse. Crystal stole Deuce from me back on Terrania. Actually she stole my boyfriend first, then the two of them stole Deuce. They used him to haul away the loot from their bank heist in Conquest Town. Then, when things got hot, she turned me and Michael in for it. She claimed we did the heist. She definitely cannot be trusted."

I look at Crystal.

"Mitch still lickin' you're heels girl?" I ask.

She doesn't say anything.

"Her partner is my former true love, Mitch. We gotta keep weather eye out for that bastard. Bank robbin', two timin' trash," I say. "They are why Michael and I had to leave Terrania in a rush."

"Don't lie, Annie," says Crystal. "You know you robbed that bank. Quit tryin' to turn the tables."

"But hells bells," I tell Spud. "Michael and I didn't need to rob no banks. We were busy selling beef to the veggers."

Like a lot of them central planets, humans on Terrania are not allowed to consume any animal products or byproducts. Rule of law. It makes ranching cattle very profitable. Though selling the meat is a bit on the dangerous side. Gotta love them black market prices though.

"Beefleggin' paid excellent on Terrania. We was starting to do right well financially. Up 'til the cops got hot on our trail for the bank robbin' we were innocent of." I look pointedly at Crystal.

"We had to jump the first ship out of there right quick. We couldn't show papers, had to stay incognito, so we stowed away. By luck, the ship we hid on took us to Hawaiia, which is halfway to the Rock. Got us close enough that we had the money for fare the rest of the way. We arrived Rockside with days to spare before roundup. Our luck was changing for the better. And then some buddy of ours shipped the rest of our little remuda over for us, real quiet like."

"That's a bunch of horseshit," Crystal whispers from her tree bed. "He dropped you like a hot potato when he met a real woman."

"Crystal?" I hiss, burning with anger. "You shut it before I kick yore ass out past the red moon."

I throw off my blanket and stomp over behind a bush to pee. Then I walk back, ignoring Crystal as I pass by. She is glaring at the world in general. I head on over to the cook fire. She can piss her pants for all I care.

I take a deep calming breath and try to forget she exists. Damn short girls. Always stealing the tall guys from those of us that need them. I try a second calming breath, open my eyes to the bigger world and force a smile. I remind myself that Crystal is the one tied to a tree. I feel better immediately. I concentrate on counting my blessings. Like the two gentlemen sitting over my the fire.

The sun is up, a light snow falling. Spud and Wolf seem to be deep in conversation.

Wolf says, "Mm." Then he sees me, nods good morning and says, "Annie, sit, we talk."

"Hey, we got three horses now," I say. "Let's toss them stragglers in the drink and git." I nod my head toward the three transients. I am tired, hungry and grouchy after an interrupted night's sleep night on hard, cold ground.

"Annie," says Spud. "Seriously."

"Okay." I grumble. "You talk, I'll drink my freakin' Mormon tea."

They both smile at that.

"Mormon tea plant medicinal," says Wolf.

Yep, Ma always gives it to us when were sick, says it's good fer what ails ya," says Spud.

I lift my head from the steaming cup and add, "It don't taste bad, it just ain't coffee."

"Ooh, cough, cough."

I look over and Zeb sits up. Then he lies back down and curls into a tight ball, groaning. I go over and check on him. His abdomen is hard and distended. Maybe he caught a bug in the river, or maybe an unlucky punch knocked something loose inside. I give him some water, hoping it's not the wrong thing to do.

Both he and Crystal have shiners and swollen noses and mouths from the fight. Neither is ready to down food. I relent and untie Crystal so she can pee. She drinks water, too. And a cup of Mormon tea.

Then I check Trixie, whose bruises are turning yellow with blue highlights from her river adventure. She swallows a few sips of the water I offer. Zeb puts his arms around her and murmurs a few words before he passes out again.

"Okay, boys," I say to the brothers. "We gotta hit the road fer Sir Jacob's now. Zeb here may have internal injuries, too. Trixie might be a bit better, but she ain't felt good enough to eat yet, so she ain't healed by any means."

"Okay, the river oughta be down. We should be able to wade now, if we move fast, before the sun gets too high," says Spud.

"Wolf make travois."

Spud heads off to catch the horses and saddle them. Wolf gets the deer hide, which is only partly dried, and starts cutting the it into a long spiral. I go out, get my long logs and drag them into position. We cut and lash them together, running short poles crosswise for the patients to lay on and ending up with two quick and dirty sledges.

Spud leads the horses over and we check the fit. Then, we pack last minute items into our saddlebags and lash the bigger items on with our saddle strings. We fit one travois each on Jinx and Joe. They are the two steadier mounts. Scout, at four, is a bit young to learn to pull with delicate cargo aboard. The older two must learn by doing this morning. Wolf leads them in a couple of circles with Spud and I each sitting on a travois for a quick bout of training.

Neither of us gets kicked, so we carry the patients over and lay them onto their new, still slightly wet, mobile beds. Crystal, hands tied in front, gets the privilege of walking. We set out the short distance to the river, which is indeed much shallower. The early morning cold has slowed the rate of snowmelt upstream.

Once there, we unload the patients. Spud takes off his boots and socks and rolls up his pants. Wolf skins out to his loincloth and rolls his clothes up inside his intestine raincoat and moccasin covers to keep them dry for the crossing.

Wolf ties a rope on the two empty travois. They are lashed together one atop the other for Scout to pull. Spud and Jinx go behind, holding the trailing ends with his rope so the whole shebang doesn't swing around and get torn up in the current. The remains of the deer meat are wrapped in a coat, which is tied up high on Joe's saddle to keep it dry. He trails behind Jinx.

Wolf heads in facing upstream with Spud a bit downstream from him. They angle across and eventually wade out on the other side, okay.

While they are gone, I remove the patient's boots and socks. I also roll up all our pants like Spud did to keep them dry during the crossing. Crystal holds her hands out for me to untie, giving me a pleading look.

"Die, bitch," I say.

She figures out how to ready herself with tied hands.

On the other side, the brothers unload. Wolf rides back leading the two other horses. Spud works on getting the travois unlashed and ready for patients, keeping an ear tuned for our yell should he need to wade in and help. If he does have to get wet, we will need to stop and build a fire so he can dry out and warm back up. Thirty-four degree water sucks body heat away quickly. It can't be much warmer than freezing, as there is skim ice floating on the current.

We hoist Zeb up on Jinx. He says he can ride. He seems too weak to get his foot into the stirrup, so we help him mount. Wolf will ride alongside to help if Zeb gets in trouble. Then we hoist Trixie up on Joe, she lays forward over the horn, but doesn't fall off. I quickly give Crystal a leg up behind Wolf. Scout who has only had a dozen or so rides in his young life, humps up and does a few little crow hops, then settles down. I climb up behind Trixie, glad that I broke Joe long ago for carrying double. I wrap my arms around the girl so I can reach the reins to steer.

We line up and head out into the shallows.

Zeb is obviously no horseman, despite his claims. His reins are already short on one side, long on the other. Most people are sure they can ride even if all they have ever done is sit on a horse once. They think it is easy.

Before I can say anything Jinx responds to the one short rein, turning downstream away from Wolf. Then he stumbles a bit as he hits some deep mud. Zeb pulls again on the uneven reins. Jinx turns further and heads back toward shore and our old camp.

"Turn him the other way," I say.

"How?" says Zeb, He has both hands full of loops of reins and looks confused.

"Forget it. Just look down his neck and even yore rein length so they match. Then take one rein with each hand and pull lightly, he'll stop." I say. Wolf is making his way back to save him.

Zeb pulls, Jinx stops. Zeb, who is a mite nervous by now, keeps pulling. Jinx backs up.

"Stop pulling," I say.

Zeb stops.

Jinx stops backing up and starts walking again.

"Now pull again," I say.

Zeb is now totally confabulated. He seems to have different parts of one rein in each hand. No tension out to the horse's mouth and no hands on the other rein.

I am trying hard not to laugh. I cough as the air bursts out of my lungs.

Just as Zeb finally drops the one rein completely to the ground, Wolf gets over close to him and grabs Jinx a rein.

"This horse is crazy. How come he just took off like that?" asks Zeb.

"He did just exactly what you asked," I say, "The question is why did you ask? He would have followed Scout across."

"I pulled, he didn't stop," says Zeb.

"You pulled him to turn, turn again, then to stop. You continued pulling, which put him in reverse. When he stops, you gotta stop pulling," I say.

After he gets his stifled guffaws under control, Wolf asks, "Ever ride a horse before, Zeb?"

"Once, looking for Crystal. How hard can it be?" he says. "Just put me on a tame one."

"They don't come any tamer that Jinx and he is the same tame horse you rode looking for Crystal," I say, ribs still heaving with stifled laughter. I leave out the after he gets topped out in the morning part, as Spud had already done that.

"Oh. Jeez," says Zeb.

"Ay yi yi. You plan to lead forty pilgrims across uncharted country with horses, teams and wagons?"

Zeb nods and says, "We can learn as we go."

"You can," I agree. "Might have a few wrecks cripple some stock and kill a couple people, too. You need to consider hiring a guide, at the very least."

"Ah, we'll be okay," says Zeb.

I just shake my head, deadpan. None of my business.

"Surely some of them others are riders?" I ask.

"We come from a small town," Zeb says.

"Oh yeah?" I ask. "How big?"

"About 500,000."

"Oh, yeah, a village."

Besides, we figured on getting a horse handling lesson the first day," says Zeb sheepishly. "You know, how to put all the harness and stuff on. How to steer."

I am speechless.

"You have raised livestock, right?" asks Wolf.

Zeb says, enthusiastically, "We talked to farmers and people who know about it. There was a farmer right nearby who we visited before we left Terrania. He told us all about what to do."

"How big was his farm?"

"Five acres."

"He have a lot of livestock?"

"Sure, he had ten chickens and three pigs."

Wolf has been checking loads as we talk. He looks at me and nods.

"Well, then yore all set fer wilderness ranching," says I. "Okay. If you are ready, Zeb, let's get outta here."

"Yeah, giddy up!" says Zeb.

Jinx jumps and turns his butt in a 180, Scout starts to explode. Wolf pulls them both in expertly. Zeb is hanging off to the side looking green around the gills.

"Maybe a little more quietly, Zeb," I say as a reach over and pull him back to center.

He nods.

"Hang tight to that saddlehorn," I say. "Wolf will lead you acrost."

Wolf shakes his head and, leading Jinx, moves out into the water once again. Guess we did need Spud's help. I see him across the river. He was working on unlashing the travois and getting them ready, but obviously he spotted our little rodeo and stopped to watch. He is now bent over with laughter.

I follow Jinx, holding Trixie around the waist and steering Joe. After a minute or two, we hit the edge of the current and the work is on. The water has risen a foot easy in the short time since the first crossing. The bottom of the river is moving and rocks are starting to roll from the strength of the current. Fortunately, it is still a wade, not a swim, and our horses are tough, patient and surefooted.

Another wet swim would require us to stop, build a fire and dry ourselves all over again, so we take extra care to stay dry. We need to get the patients to Sir Jacob's as quickly as possible. We near the other side what seems like a half hour later, but as these things go, is likely less than ten minutes. We are not too far downstream from where we can see Spud once again unlashing and tightening the covers on the two travois. He stops what he is doing and comes over to meet us.

Once ashore, Spud grabs Jinx reins so Zeb doesn't do something to cause him to bolt for home. We unload everyone and dry feet with our shirts. Wolf puts some clothes back on.

Since we have only the three horses left, much of our cached camp gear gets left behind. Spud has already bundled up food and a few essentials to take with us.

We hang the travois poles over the saddle horns on Jinx and Joe. We load the patients on them and are soon ready to hit the road. As we start out, we push anything soft we can find, like our coats and gloves, between the logs and saddles to save the saddle leather from rubs.

Crystal gets to walk in front of my pistol. I know from experience just how slippery she can be. Wearing less than we would like for the cold conditions, Spud and I are happy to be afoot, each leading a travois pulling horse. The clouds start leaking snow down upon us.

"Just a light flurry," I say, looking at the clouds. "Not stickin'."

I mentally cross my fingers.

"Got any feeling yet?" asks Spud, leading Jinx.

"Fingers, some. Toes, not yet," I reply holding Joe's reins. "Wolf. How did you stay warm aboard that heathen beast fer three crossings?"

Wolf looks down from Scout and says, "Wolf clothes stay dry crossing river. Gut raingear make good dry sack."

I only have a wet strip on my rolled pants to live with, plus the normal splashing from the horses' legs. And the damp shirt from drying my and Trixie's feet. Brrr. My duster is acting as a blanket on Trixie.

"Not doin' too bad wet wise. Be better if the sun would come out from behind them clouds," I say.

Crystal looks warm and comfy in her duster, but she bitches about her contusions from the fight. She entertains us intermittently, as we walk, with her ills.

"My knee got twisted," she moans.

Later she pulls a finger out of her mouth and says, "Bastard broke two of my teeth."

She takes a deep breath as we climb a hill, winces and says, "My ribs hurt when I breathe."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and it'll be a pictured lung, " I say. "If so, yore a dead woman. Don't waste yore last breaths bitchin'. It's high time you learned to enjoy what's left of yore miserable life."

"You always were a mouthy one, Roxanne," she gripes.

"Thanks," I say. "I'll take that as a compliment."

When we arrive at the cache, we load up our gear and food. Some fits on Scout. Most of it we strap atop the saddles on the travois horses. Bulky things, like the sawbuck, go on the two travois with Trixie and Zeb. We put the pack saddle blankets and tarp under and over the chilled patients for more padding and warmth.

Crystal says, "Damn it Roxy. I'm hot. Untie me so I can take off this duster."

"Die bitch," I say again.

"What, are you running out of expletives?" she asks, tauntingly.

Spud gives me the hairy eyeball and goes over to Crystal. He helps her get her long coat off and stows it on a travois.

We start walking once more. The land in front of us is sparkling brown and the shadows are still white with frost. The last of the summer green has faded away. Only the conifers hold on to their color. Their turquoise and green needles look cheery. Some snow patches in the shade twinkle and glisten for our amusement.

It is lunchtime, the sun is out and we are all warm. Spirits are on our side, too, because the river will definitely have risen behind us. Fortunately, there's no more rivers ahead.

Spud digs some newly made deer jerky out and we eat. Zeb and Trixie manage a bite or two. Crystal eats like a starving woman.

"Holy cow Spud, I didn't know you could eat and walk at the same time," I say.

Wolf, who is leading, turns back and says, "He couldn't always. Wolf have to teach."

"You two think yore funny?" asks Spud rhetorically, rolling his eyes.

"Say, you never told me. Which of you is older?" I ask.

"Wolf wiser," says Wolf.

"But I am older," says Spud. "Therefore automatically wiser."

"Twenty minutes. Not enough to matter," says Wolf.

"Sure it is," says Spud.

"Wait, what? Twenty minutes? But aren't you brothers?" I ask.

"Yep," says Wolf.

"Oh. Spud is adopted, right?"

"Nope," says Spud.

"Oh...you mean?"

"What?" asks Spud, just to torture me.

"You two fuckers are twins?"

"Yep," says Spud and smiles.

"Mm-hm," adds Wolf, smiling also.

"Holy cow."

I mull on the implications of that a while.

"But, you don't look alike."

"Ain't no law says twins gotta look alike," says Spud.

"True."

"Two brothers, share womb," says Wolf, shrugging.

"Whoo ta! My first twins."

They both smile.

"Your first?" asks Crystal. "Shit, I had two sets at once, once."

"Lyin' bitch," I say.

"Fucking cunt," she counters.

Shit, I made myself a promise to ignore her.

"Will you two get over it?" asks Spud.

Looking from one to the other, amazed, I ask, "Isn't twins supposed to be good luck or some such?"

"Good luck fer us," says Spud, smiling. Wolf looks like he may just agree.

A few miles later, Wolf pulls his horse up. He dismounts and says, "Annie good woman, deserve ride."

"Thank ya kindly, sir," I say, bowing my head.

I climb on Scout and rest my weary dogs for a while.

We continue along for a good bit, passing the beaver pond and starting up into the pass. Good thing for us that the snow quit falling for this climb. Would of made it real slick. About halfway up, I pull over and give Scout to Spud.

We work our way up to the pass and look at the mostly downhill miles in front of us. I pick up some snow to suck on.

"Downhill looks good to me about now," I say. "You know any shortcuts, guys?"

"Mebbe," says Spud. "Not with these travois, though. They gotta stick to easy country. Be best to stay on the trail."

"How about Spud ride ahead? Get Sir Jacob and wagon," says Wolf.

"Great minds," says Spud. He unties some of the goodies that were strapped to the saddle and hands them to us to save weight and preserve Scout's energy. He climbs back on and trots off. We stow the goods on the two travois.

"Now Wolf have Annie all to self."

"Hey, I'm a girl too," says Crystal.

"Wolf trust Annie judgment. Best to ignore Crystal," he says.

He gets out the leftover rawhide strip and commences fashioning a breeching to keep the saddles from sliding forward on the steep downhill run.

"Yeah. Just you, me, the invisible bitch and two sleeping patients.

"Right now, Wolf just hope they stay asleep. We need to make time, get them to help."

"Yeah, good or bad, guess it don't mean much now. Long as Crystal don't attack us."

"Mm, Wolf check knots."

"Yeah, couldn't hurt," I say. "No sense bein' stupid."

We head out once more. Crystal is limping. Which I don't mind. I like watching the bitch suffer. Actually, I know her well enough to know that she is probably faking it.

I can see Spud far below. He has descended the switchbacks and left the trail already. Scout is now loping across the open plain.

"Looks like he is going for the shortcut."

After we have walked a ways further I notice that Crystal has forgotten her limp. She is striding along just fine. Ha, I knew it.

The switchbacks slow us down quite a bit, not having been designed with a travois in mind. They are, in fact, just game trails that a few folks have ridden and improved over time. Fortunately, there are not a lot of trees, so we can take one horse at a time and slide and pry each travois around the tighter bends.

We only end up unloading our patients twice. They drink water and pee, but have no desire for solid food. They do drink a bit of grouse broth from my canteen. Wolf and I also take the opportunity for a break and a snack for ourselves.

Then, as we head around the next switchback, Joe's travois slips off the trail. I get busy trying to keep the travois from sliding farther and its passenger from rolling off down the steep hillside.

We cheat our way on around the rest of the corners, learning tricks as we go. When we hit the bottom, we can hear the distant sound of jingling harness.

"Sir Jacob must not be far."

"If it is him," says Wolf.

"We are expecting him. Who else would be driving a team this far out in the boonies?" I ask Wolf.

"Friend of Crystal," he says nodding toward her.

"Argh," I groan. I was wishfully blanking that bastard out.

"You sound like pirate," says Wolf smiling. That calls for a quick kiss.

We keep walking across the rolling land.

"I don't hear the jinglin' anymore."

"Wind blow sound away," says Wolf. I turn around. He is right, a light breeze has come up from behind us.

"Make it easier for us to come up on them sudden like."

"No good if they are not friends," says Wolf. "Wolf scout ahead."

He turns Joe loose to follow Jinx' travois and walks up the nearest hill for a look see. I cross my fingers and keep walking, with Jinx' reins in my hand. But Joe stops to graze. I consider having Crystal lead him. But don't trust her to not cause trouble even though she looks too tired to run. She could be pretending.

I untie her hands and retie them in front, then I boost her up onto Joe and secure them to the horn. Her legs look uncomfortable straddling the travois poles. Fine by me. I tie Joe's reins to Jinx' travois. Joe being tied should deter Crystal from trying to kick him up and escape.

Wolf's scouting of the trail ahead seems most important. If we healthy folks die, the injured ones got not much of a chance at all.

# 39 Jingle Balls

I continue down the trail, whistling quietly for confidence.

I feel alone among enemies. Crystal has it in for me for sure. I look over at her. She looks like shit. The fight with Zeb seems to have taken it out of her. Her lipstick is smeared, there is more on her chin than her lips. That cheers me up.

So, I think more pleasant thoughts. Funny, what comes to mind as I daydream.

Hell, I like Buzz. Might even want to get to know him up close and personal. He is a good lookin' fella, and not too much older than me. Slim, broad shoulders, even has a tight little ass on him and dimples. And he has the most important of all male attributes. He is taller than me. Short men are generally scared of a gal who is big enough to throw them across the room.

Mysterious, too. Besides, alien strange? Ooh ta! Never had that, far as I know anyway. And I just recently knocked out twins. Aliens could be my next frontier should the twins lose interest. Never hurts to have a spare lined up in the wings.

I get some jerky outta my shirt pocket and chew fer a while. Hell, I even hand some to Crystal who sucks and chews noisily. Than other two are sleeping. I settle back into enjoying the walk and our goal of journey's end in a warm dry indoors. Plus a hot bath, in Sir Jacob's giant tub. Maybe a nice soak with a handsome man. Yah huh!

'Bang. Bang. Bang.'

"Shit." Do things go to hell ever'time I think about sex?

Naw, not that often.

The shots are not too close. I am down in a dry crick bed. Can't see a thing. Don't know if I should swim or tread water.

I listen for a couple of minutes. I can't really climb a hill, nothing solid to tie the horses to here. So I start walking again. I trust that Wolf has things well in hand. And I still have sick folks to get to some kind of help. Standing still is bad for them. of course, moving into a line of fire could get them shot.

I remind myself to not whistle anymore. No need to advertise our presence. I do have my rifle in my hand. When did I get it out? Reflexes, gotta love 'em.

"Psst."

I look around. There is a tall blonde heavily built man with a six shooter pointed right at me. He has on a tousled gray suit and a narrow brimmed city slicker hat. He looks like he used to have muscles forty pounds ago.

"Why Roxanne, your are just as beautiful as ever. Drop the gun, please," he says.

"Mitch, you double crossin', two faced bastard. You got fat." I chuckle and add, "And Crystal is dressing you now. The woman has no taste."

"Drop it now, Roxanne. I really will shoot you."

"What happened to undying love?"

"I ain't kiddin', Roxy."

"Look, Mitch..."

"Turn me loose honey," says Crystal.

"You drop it," comes a whisper.

Mitch startles and looks back toward the sound.

Wolf has his rifle barrel in Mitch's back.

Mitch drops it. I walk over and tie his hands behind his back. We gag both he and Crystal. Then without a word Wolf leaves us and heads up the hill.

At the top, he scans around. He signals me to join him and then looks back the way we are headed. He has his rifle at the ready. There is a bush nearby, so I tie Joe and Jinx to it. And tie Crystal and Mitch to separate trees a ways away.

The patients are still asleep for the most part. Long day for them, in not the smoothest of conveyances.

I head up the hill, crawling the last bit to join Wolf. I stop just before I skyline out. Wolf turns and holds a finger to his lips. He looks around some and then he motions me up. I doff my hat and peek over. I look where he is looking, but see nothing. He catches my eye, saying nothing. So I follow suit, quietly watching and listening.

After a long hour, probably only five minutes, someone in the distance says something that sounds like, "Is he dead?"

I don't recognize the voice. Dead? Who? Damn it.

I hear a noise off to the right. I turn, keeping my rifle ready. Down the hill is Michael. He waves at us. I touch Wolf and he turns.

He and Michael exchange some sign language and we head down to join him.

"The wagon is just a ways further along," he says quietly, as he hugs me hello. We walk around a bend in the trail to our horses and all.

"Oh. Look. It's my favorite flaming faggot."

Michael spins around, ready to fight. He says, "Crystal? Mitch? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Sorry," I say to Michael, "she slipped the gag. I should have killed them both when I had the chance on Terrania."

"Seems like maybe I was the one who talked you out of it," he replies. "Damn it."

Crystal smiles her evil smile at him. Me? Naw, I'm not prejudiced against the bitch one bit. Her smile is purely evil.

"Hey, how about an orange gag?" Michael asks. He takes out his orange handkerchief and stuffs it in her mouth. Then removes his scarf, and ties it around her head to hold the gag in. He hands my gag back. It is all drool. I gag and stuff it in a saddlebag.

"It's not just me," I say to Wolf. "Michael doesn't like her either."

Wolf nods sagely.

"Safe to go?" Wolf asks Michael.

"Spud went up to check on the gun shots, we can start walking," says Michael. "Sir Jacob has the wagon just down the way."

We untie the horses and head on down the draw. In about a mile we get to Sir Jacob. I hold the team while he rushes over to take a quick look at each of the patients.

As he approaches Crystal, I say, "Careful of her, she is a slippery bitch."

"Spud said that you had found someone you knew from another planet," says Sir Jacob.

"Yep, Crystal. Knew and hated every inch of her stinking guts. And his too." I point at Mitch. "Bastard's name is Mitch."

"Oh my," says Sir Jacob. He walks over and shakes Mitch's tied hand. The he holds and looks at it more closely.

"Who hurt you?" he asks.

"Oh." Mitch starts, hesitates, then says, "um. You know, it's Crystal, she's an animal between the sheets."

"What was the shooting about?" I ask.

Sir Jacob looks at me and shrugs.

"Not us," he says. "Planet's getting crowded."

"No shit," I whisper.

"Load this one on the wagon," he says, gesturing at Zeb. We untie and lift him onto the bed of the spring wagon. Jacob gets out some doctor tools and does a more thorough examination. He and Michael discuss the results.

Wolf and I, meanwhile, are unloading Trixie. We lift the travois off of the saddle. I offer her water. She sits up and takes it with a grateful smile. Then she lies back down, looking pale and tired. We look over at the wagon. The doctors are busy.

Wolf says, "I go help Spud." He tosses the travois and everything except the saddle and bridle off of Jinx and mounts up. I can see him scanning the trail as he leaves, looking for Spud's horse tracks.

I walk over to check on the doctor team. They are consulting intently. Soon they are getting out more instruments. They look at me.

"He needs surgery. Now," says Sir Jacob.

"Man, you guys love to cut on people, living and dead."

Michael smiles and shrugs.

"If you don't need me, I'll get things packed up to travel."

"Good."

Michael is opening Zeb's shirt and pants.

I go back to the travois and start the repacking. I tie small items to Joe's saddle. Then I start unloading things from the two travois and setting them next to where we will load them on the wagon after the surgery. I stay out of the way of the surgeons and leave a space for Trixie to lay next to Zeb.

After I finish, I check on the surgeons again. They seem to be closing him up.

I say to Michael, "He okay?"

"Fingers crossed that he will be, young lady," says Michael.

He is washing his hands in a bowl of what looks more like blood then water. He tosses it out, pours in clean water and repeats.

"He was lucky the bullet missed most everything, just a couple of bleeders to tie off," he says.

"Bullet?"

Sir Jacob nods.

When they are done, we get everything stowed. I have just enough room left in the saddle to ride Joe.

"Bullet?" I ask again.

"Yeah. Who shot him?"

"There was no shootin' that I know of," I say. "Oh. Wait. There was one, no, two shots while they were fighting. Nobody ever said anything about him bein' shot though. Not even him. He was worried about the ankle."

"That can happen during a fight, probably felt like a punch when it happened and then his ankle and the rest hurt worse," Sir Jacob says. "Let's load Trixie and get moving."

We carry Trixie over and lift her into the wagon bed.

"Right, we are off. We have much better facilities at home," says Sir Jacob.

"How long a ride is it?" I ask as I mount up.

Sir Jacob looks at the sky. "We shall be there before dark, if we hurry."

"I should go help the boys, in case they found the guys making those tracks," I say.

"No. If the shot one...Zeb?...goes shocky, he may convulse. It could take us all three to hold him," says Sir Jacob as he climbs into the driver's seat. "Stay with us."

"Oh, okay," I say. I put Mitch and Crystal on each side of the wagon back near the tailgate and tie them to nearby 'O' rings.

I mount Joe. Michael climbs into the back of the wagon to keep an eye on the patients and prisoners. Sir Jacob shakes up the ribbons and we are off at the trot.

I must say, it feels damn good to be back in the saddle and covering ground.

# 40 Homeward Bound

After a few miles, Sir Jacob says, "Annie, there is a space on the seat here next to me. Tie that horse behind. Climb up, you can ride shotgun."

"Sure."

I dismount, tie up my horse to the back of the wagon and hop up to sit by Sir Jacob. He hands me the shotgun. I check the action, then lay the twelve gauge across my lap. I listen carefully but, other than the noise of our horses and wagon, all seems tranquil.

"Yore spring wagon does pretty well on the trail here," I say looking the rig over.

"Yes, Spud warned me about the primitive trail. Therefore, I brought the narrowest I have," says Sir Jacob. "Spud rode ahead of us on the way out. He chopped down a few trees and did some light limbing here and there to widen the road. It provides a significantly smoother ride for the patients than the travois, and is much faster."

"You know anything about this one wheeled thingy that the boys saw the track of?" I ask.

"Ugh?"

"Yeah."

"It is a fairly sophisticated unmanned contraption. Smart enough to run itself down trails, self-propelled. From what Spud related it seems that Wolf didn't in fact see it either, so one can only speculate. One wonders what it's mission could be. And who is running it. It could be recording sight, sound or both."

"Yep. Whatever they might be lookin' fer."

"What have you and Michael been up to?" I ask .

"We have kept busy in the wine cellar. Working on the wine in barrels. Today we were tasting and blending a fine new vintage of Petite Syrah with a Zin," says Sir Jacob. "Also, we have an excellent Albariño ready to open tonight."

"Great. Sounds like a tolerable nice life you been livin' compared to our excess of adventure the last couple of days."

"Ah, yes, very much so," says Sir Jacob. He glances back again to check on the patients. "They seem to be resting well. It has no doubt been an exhausting trip."

"Yeah, I sure am beat, short night and a long couple of days.

"Yep," says Michael. "All quiet back here. Pulses are fine, no puddles of blood. No one sneaking up behind us."

"Good."

A few miles later Sir Jacob slows the team to a walk as we pass through a narrow stretch of rocky trail. The long drive is making me sleepy, too.

Michaels sits up quickly. Jolting the wagon.

"Wait. Don't look up. Shit," he says quietly.

"Okay, not looking up," I say.

"Be right back," says Michael. He jumps on Joe and gallops off.

"Bugger and blast," mutters Sir Jacob. "Don't look. The Ugh is atop that hill behind us. Michael must have looked up and spotted it."

"So much fer leavin' it alone 'til we see what it is up to," I say, tipping my head enough to peak out from under the brim of my hat, like Sir Jacob has done. I can see the thingy out of the corner of my eye without letting the sun light up my features.

Sir Jacob says, "If it spots us, it could be a cock up. It would be best if it didn't record our presence."

I am confused by that. So I ask flat out, "Why not? Wasn't it already spyin' on us?"

"No, I believe it is up to something else. Wolf and Spud just happened on its tracks by luck, don't you see?" says Sir Jacob.

"Yeehaw," yells Michael as the rope settles over the Ugh. Joe backs away mightily, as any good rope horse will, keeping the rope taut and his eyes glued to his captive. The Ugh tries hard to stay upright, but the rope catch is high up and Joe is a strong puller. As the rope tightens, Michael spins Joe around and they come barreling down the hill. The Ugh is thrown on its side. It bounces over the rocky terrain, clanging away metallically. Joe has never heard a metallic sounding cow, so he runs for his life. It's also the weirdest looking cow he ever saw.

"Take these," says Sir Jacob, tossing me the reins. "Be sure the brake is set."

I double check the brake, drop the shotgun in the boot well and grab the reins.

Very quickly, Joe and Michael arrive at the wash. Sir Jacob is already on the ground, with a blanket in hand, ready to bulldog the Ugh.

The team spooks and drags the wagon about ten yards, set brakes and all. They seem to agree with Joe that bouncing Ughs really are scary.

I get the wild-eyed team under control quickly and turned around.

I can see the action again. Michael pulls Joe to a sliding stop just past the bottom of the wash and a mite uphill, The Ugh comes to a stop on its side in the wash. Joe spins around to face his 'cow' as Michael jumps off and runs to hogtie it.

Sir Jacob tosses the blanket over the Ugh to cover the camera lens and throws himself atop it to keep it laying down. If it stands up and starts driving away, it will likely spook the horses again. We could have a real wreck.

Sir Jacob is stuffing folds of blanket into the wheel spokes to stop the spinning wheel. Michael arrives and runs his piggin string through spokes and struts. He snugs it up and ties a knot, rendering the wheel immobile.

I look up to check on Joe. He is where Michael left him, still facing his cow, holding the rope taut. Just like the reliable cowhorse he is.

The Ugh is fighting to stand upright. Can Ughs stand up once they are knocked down? Apparently. Michael joins Sir Jacob atop the blanket. Then Sir Jacob feels around the blanket a while.

What with all the excitement, all I saw was a shiny silver, electronic looking thing on top of a wheel.

The team is restless, so I utter some soothing words, "Easy boys. No problem."

I notice that Michael is sitting atop the blanket waving his arms at me. He holds an upright index finger in front his mouth.

Shh. He mimes.

I realize they have said nothing in all this time. Damn Ugh, must have electronic ears, just like Sir Jacob suggested.

Sir Jacob lifts a corner of the blanket and looks under. He pulls hard on some wires. It gets quiet. I hadn't noticed, over the noise of the team and the wind, that the Ugh had been making a tiny whining sound.

He pulls more blanket off, looking and feeling around. Is he maybe checking for, like, an electronic heartbeat? Michael is inspecting the other end.

Finally, they look up and Michael waves me closer, pointing to the other side of their position.

I shake the reins and the team moves up past the now quiet blanketed monster. Michael ties a rope from the back of the wagon to the Ugh, then comes forward and grabs the team leader's near rein. I climb down from my seat and walk up the hill to get Joe.

Sir Jacob is still searching the Ugh.

I coil the rope after Sir Jacob takes it off the Ugh. Joe and I return to the wagon.

"Bloody trespassers, the guys who sent this. What nonsense are they engaged in?" says Sir Jacob quietly, as I ride up. "We may be able to tell, if I didn't cock it up when I pulled the wires loose. Couldn't find the bleeding off switch. The light stopped blinking, but it may not be entirely turned off."

He stands and heads over to the wagon, fiddling with something.

I ask, "What's next?"

"We need to load the Ugh and get on down the trail. It is too valuable to abandon and too heavy to lift by hand. Thus, I need to deploy the crane. With the block and tackle we can raise it into the back here, behind the patients."

This is quickly accomplished with Joe as the pulling force.

"Sir Jacob, once again, has a tool for every happenstance," I say to Michael, after we are back in our places and rolling down the trail again.

"Yep, quite the outfit," says Michael, as he checks on the patients.

"It pays to be prepared," says Sir Jacob. "Michael, see if you can find some cloth to blindfold them for the remainder of the journey. And watch that the blindfolds stay in place."

Michael gets them all set. Sir Jacob wants to keep the location of his outfit a secret. Good idea.

Couple of hours after dark we arrive, tired and stiff, from the long journey. We move the two invalids into the fortress. Sir Jacob has a fancy clinic room, hospital-like really, for the pair. Mitch and Crystal get a locked windowless store room. Sir Jacob tells me to be a nice girl and go hunt down chairs for them to sit in. I do, grudgingly. Still stung by the thought of having to share a planet with that bitch.

We pull off the blindfolds. After a brief inspection of their swollen eyes, noses and mouths, his Lordship and Michael start pulling off the patient's clothes and looking at ugly sores, bruises and the like on the rest of their bodies.

I get out the bottle and give them each a steadying drink.

"I will leave you to your doctorin'," I say, "and go scare up a meal. Don't get bamboozled by Crystal."

"Not to worry," says Sir Jacob, threading a needle to stitch up some ugly cuts on Trixie's face and legs. "She is locked in."

Michael is applying anesthetic.

"She is a slippery minx."

We'll be careful, Annie, I am familiar with her ways," says Michael and, as I start to close the door. "Hey."

I stop and look back at him, raising my eyebrows.

"The Albariño is in the cooler."

"Good."

We have a much-deserved meal. Roast beef sandwiches on homemade bread. Someone has been baking. Michael takes food down to the others. Sir Jacob and I we are soon savoring our wine in front of Sir Jacob's rock fireplace. Michael joins us.

"Hey, Sir Jacob, is that fancy painted deal up there over the mantle something special? It shore is pretty," I say.

"Well, yes, in fact, that is the Bridbury coat of arms, you see," he says. "Here, we have the dragon for power over our foes. In this quadrant the lion, for ferocity in battle. Here the fox, for elusiveness in the field. The fourth holds the tiger, for tactical ingenuity. The crossed muskets are to commemorate the battle of Ionia. We Bridbury's take great pride in our ancestral lineage and traditions."

"Wow."

"The Albariño was to your liking?"

"Fabulous."

"Good. Let us switch now to brandy, we have a bit more to discuss before we sleep. One is hoping the brothers will also return before we retire."

Michael rises and gets the brandies. He seems very much at home. Nice thing to have, a home.

"I'm curious," I say. "This Ugh thing. We brought it in so they wouldn't get it back, is that right?"

"Yes," says Sir Jacob. "It may be that the information it contains has yet to be transmitted."

"Oh? I would have thought that it linked straight to a satellite," says Michael.

"Yes, usually that would be the case. However, here on the Rock, the Centrists wish to keep us in primitive circumstance. On an irregular basis, they blast us with EMP's to keep us in the dark, so to speak," says Sir Jacob. "Therefore, I believe they are running a self-contained Ugh."

"Is there any way to use the Ugh ourselves, or is it dead?" asks Michael.

"Ah. That is an excellent question. I do know a bit about such things. A wee bit. However, I am no robotician. I love to tinker though, so we shall see. Assuming, of course, it has survived the wild ride down the hill behind the crazed cowboy." Sir Jacob looks at Michael with a twinkle in his eye.

"Hey, I caught the sucker. Hogtied him and all," Michael laughingly boasts.

"It were somethin' to watch," I say, nodding my head at the memory. "Okay, I am off to the baths, care to join?"

"We shall go in later, we must first double check on the patients. And assure ourselves that Mitch and Crystal can't escape."

Michael adds, "I will find bedding for Mitch and Crystal."

"You will find it in the linen closet next to the baths," says Sir Jacob.

"Yeah," I say, feeling the brandy. "that bitch."

"You have to admit, Annie," says Michael, "she and Mitch turning us in on Terrania helped expedite our arrival here on the Rock. It turned out better for us in the end."

"True," I admit, as I head out of the room, "but I hate to give that evil bitch credit for anything."

# 41 Buzzards

I wake up, and realize I've fallen asleep in the tub. Luckily, I haven't drowned. Can that happen? Bound to be possible.

I pull myself out, dry off, hit the sheets and luxuriate in one of Sir Jacob's fine, comfy beds.

After a late breakfast in the morning, I head down to find the early rising doctors bending over their patients.

"How they doing?" I ask.

"Resting from breakfast," says Michael.

"Shit, this clinic of yores looks mighty fancy," I say after looking around at a few gleaming stainless steel medical thingamajigs. "I grew up in the boonies, never been to a real hospital."

"Not actually that sophisticated. However, it does come in handy at times like this," says Sir Jacob.

"No Spud or Wolf?" I ask.

"Nary a sign of them," he says.

"Guess I will ride down to Spud's and see if they are there."

"You sure?" asks Michael.

"They gotta be somewhere. I need to at least ride to where the trail forks to see if there is sign of them passin' in case they went to Spud's place. If they haven't been through, maybe they need help."

Sir Jacob says, "It would be prudent for you to wait here until someone can accompany you to watch your back."

"I'll be okay."

"Annie, please wait," says Michael, sweetly concerned for his cowgirl partner. "Maybe we will get something out of one of these guys. We could use your help."

"Nice of you to care," I say and smile. I know they means they don't want me out on the trails alone, but won't bruise my pride by saying so. It is dangerous out there.

"Okay," says Michael. "Are we finished here?"

"Yes, let us adjourn to the map table and get our bearings."

We walk through the tapestry-hung tunnels of the fortress to a familiar room.

"Must be nice, havin' yore own personal underground castle," I comment.

"Rather. Although it was a long time in the making. We do indeed have some small comforts now," says Sir Jacob. "If you could tell us what occurred after we split up?" He points at the table.

The map is spread out on the table. I go over and start putting our travels mentally into focus in order to point out our route on the map.

"How much did Spud tell you?"

"Very little, there was a bit of a rush," says Sir Jacob. "If you could start at the beginning? To be sure that we know all."

"Okay," I say and tell them the whole shebang. Pointing out our route in the map. "See, we went down through here, then Wolf went over and saw the Spirit deer about here..."

"Wait. Is that it?" says a new voice.

We look up to see Zeb, leaning on a stick and hobbling over toward us to look at the map.

"It is. This is our map. Newzona," he exclaims.

"Your map?" asks Sir Jacob. "Please reiterate. Explain your provenance."

"We came, wait, let me start again. I am part of an expedition from the planet Terrania. We were run off the planet by the veggers. We like meat. We feel it is a superior food which promotes health and longevity. We started spreading the word, helping others understand the strength of a well-rounded diet. The Centrist authorities didn't like that. They decided they couldn't have us among them, They said we were a bad influence on their children. Turning them into meat lovers. They gave us thirty days to leave or face imprisonment," says Zeb. "They believe that cows are evil methane producers."

"We were lost at first, didn't know where to turn. Then providence stepped in. A man came and told us of the Rock. He said it was a place of freedom. Where people could follow their own rules. He said he knew a man who would sell us what we needed.

"His friend sold us a trunk of maps and papers. It was very expensive, but we had no alternative, no time. We scraped together what monies we could, having sold our homes, to finance the trip.

We picked up the trunk. When we got it home and opened, we found that the map on top looked okay, but the rest were old and fragmented. We could make neither heads nor tails of them. But this seems to be a true map. We have the key."

"The key?" I ask.

"Yes, the other part, it is some sort of code. We don't know, but they work together the map and key. One part is labeled NEW the other ZONA. So we call it Newzona."

"An expedition?" I ask. "How many?"

"Forty souls, all dedicated to the belief that meat is central to health and eternal life," says Zeb. "When we arrived here we bought supplies and started east, but bandits came one night and took the contents of the trunk. By chance, I had the other part of the map in a separate place. Thankfully, I hadn't put it back in the trunk that night. The two parts together show where our sacred settlement will be.

Zeb falters, then continues, "Crystal said they have it and that we would have to pay a huge ransom for its return."

"Come," says Michael. "You need rest. We will not lose the map. It is safe here. You go back and sleep."

"But..." says Zeb.

Sir Jacob adds, "You had surgery and a long trying journey just yesterday. Look here, you are bleeding again. You must gain back your strength. Go."

"I'll go with him and fix that," says Michael. He takes Zeb's elbow and helps him down the hall.

"Guess we got the right ones tied up," I say to His Lordship.

Turning to me, Sir Jacob says, "So it would seem. They were fighting?"

"Yep, Crystal and Zeb. Tooth and nail. Each claims the other started it, of course."

"Yes, I suppose it is the only way one can live with oneself," Sir Jacob is saying. "In order to justify the morality of one's actions, one must point the finger elsewhere."

He heads over to the sideboard for a refill.

Meanwhile, I have gotten distracted by the books.

"Sir Jacob?" I ask shyly. "Are, um, can I look at your, um, books?"

"Oh, my dear girl, of course. Help yourself. Be very careful, however, they are rare and fragile. Many are one of a kind."

"Is there, like, a place to start?"

"Oh, of course, here," he walks over to a wall of books and looks about. "Here, come, walk over and I will help you pick one. Pictures or words?"

"I don't, well, Wolf mentioned one with birds and another with animals?"

"Ah, how about this one? Horses."

"Wow."

He pulls it out and carries it to the table.

"Sit," he says.

He sits next to me and opens the book. It has thin papers inside that have...

"Holy cow!" I point at a picture of a buckskin horse. "That looks just like Joe!"

Sir Jacob admonishes me to turn the pages carefully.

"Wow," I say. "I have never seen such high-toned fancy writing, all written so each letter is just the same size and shape as the last. And photos too. Heard of it, of course, I ain't totally a hick. Made some printing blocks myself once as a kid, dipped 'em in plant dyed water and made letters on our home made paper. I have seen hand written tied together books too, but never nothin' so fancy as these."

Sir Jacob smiles.

I pore over the pages. Horses, horses and more horses. All kinds of horses. After having been transfixed by the book for a time, I look up and realize that I am alone. I carefully close the book and slide it back in its spot. Then I wander down the tunnel.

Trixie is up and walking slowly around the room. Aptly named, she is not much bigger than an elf.

"Good, you are up and about. I am Annie, in case you didn't hear me introduce myself before. How are you feeling?"

"I am Trixie. I hear that I have you and your friends to thank for saving me. I do feel a little better. But, I am so stiff and sore. Sir Jacob says I have a few broken ribs and lots of stitches."

"Do you feel good enough to head up to join the others?"

"No, I need more sleep. I am sore and stiff. I was just trying to walk out a few kinks, but I think I overdid. Everything hurts," she says. She shuffles back to her bed and crawls under the covers.

I check everyone's water supply, then continue looking for the boys. I find them in the kitchen. Buzz is with them.

"Hey, Buzz, welcome back. You missed all the excitement," I say.

"Maybe yours. I, however, enjoyed a bit of my own," says Buzz.

Sir Jacob fills glasses and passes them around.

His Lordship raises his glass In a toast.

"Skoal," he says.

"Skoal," we echo and drink.

"Good. We need to depart," says Buzz, setting his glass on the counter. "Spud and Wolf need us."

"Why didn't you say this earlier?" I ask, upset.

"Earlier, I felt they might need us. Now, I know they do."

"What? How?"

"Powers. The true test of a Bãngh," says Sir Jacob.

"We need to go. Now," says Wolf as he comes running into the room. He is out of breath and very agitated, nothing like his usual calm, Zen self. He looks around and spots Buzz.

"Bãngh get here fast," he says.

"Long story," says Buzz.

"I shall grab food for us," says Sir Jacob.

As we hurry out of the room, I look at Buzz and ask, "You heard him coming?"

"Yes, it was in the air waves as he approached along the tunnel."

"I didn't hear a thing."

"Nor did I," says Buzz. "More of a feeling or a vision."

As we are saddling up, Sir Jacob arrives with bags of trail food and passes them to each of us.

"I briefed Michael. We shall leave him here, if that is okay with you, Wolf," he says. "We can't take the chance on any of the crew escaping or discovering the location of my place. We don't know enough about their allegiances."

"Michael choice. In this tribe everyone Injin, no chiefs."

"Shit, I wanted to be a chief," I say.

They all stop what they are doing and look at me. 'Skeptical' says the look on their faces. Then they laugh.

Michael assists us as we lead our mounts down the tunnel and out into the night. We have brought two spare horses for each rider.

"I'll flash a signal to Sky. With luck, he will see it," he says.

"Flash?" I ask.

"Mirrors," explains Sir Jacob. "I showed Michael what to do."

"White man smoke signal," says Wolf.

# 42 Outlaw Trail

We start out walking our horses to warm their muscles. Sir Jacob tells Buzz an abbreviated version of our river adventures.

I hear Wolf say, "Put all four in one room, Wolf sort it out."

"How?" asks Sir Jacob.

"Injin got powers too."

"I believe Zeb," I say.

"Likely," says Wolf. "But Annie hate Crystal, not see clearly."

"True. Maybe even more for the boyfriend stealing than the bank deal."

"But Spud much better than Mitch," says Wolf. "And Wolf best. Annie better off."

"Yeah, Michael said that, too." I nod. "Hard to not hold a grudge, what with Mitch being my first true love. And the whole wanted poster warrant deal fer the heist."

"Sheriff Spud arrest Annie and handcuff, but only to bedpost," says Wolf.

"Spud like that kinda stuff?" I ask incredulous.

"No, not think so, only Injin humor."

The trail narrows and we move up to a lope as we return to a single file formation.

Wolf, ever the scout, presses on ahead of us. His horse is in awesome physical condition.

***

"Who the fuck are those guys? I mean, I don' think they are working alone," I say when we stop to water and change horses. We have been riding fast for hours. "I heard Crystal and Mitch say they were chasing a guy who double crossed them."

"They could be working for Soames, if he is still alive. Or someone else who knows about the spirit caves. Or even be working on their own," says Sir Jacob.

"Fucking bad guys." I say. "I never did trust strangers. And, of the folks I know, Crystal is the worst."

"One would hope that you do not feel me to be a fraud. We are almost strangers, having not been acquainted for long," says Buzz, tongue-in-cheek, eyebrows raised quizzically.

"Takes me a while to get used to new folks, Buzz. I think you are okay. Also, Sir Jacob vouches for ya.'

"Almost everyone lives their life in what they feel is a proper and moral way. It is muddled by the fact that the concepts of right and wrong are subject to interpretation. One must not take it all too seriously," says Buzz.

He shrugs his shoulders, grinning. He is probably concerned, but he sounds completely nonchalant.

"You seem to find a lot of humor in this," I say. "Lives are at stake here."

"Including yours and mine. I shall continue to attempt to find humor in life until the final bullet arrives."

"That's a tall order."

"Tis a wisdom which arrives with the years," Buzz says.

"You don't look too much older than me."

"Ah, well, that is a story for another day," he says as we tighten our cinches.

"Yeah,' I say. Tucking in my latigo. 'Time's awastin'."

We all hop aboard.

"Oh, yes. Very much so," says Sir Jacob, kicking his fresh mount up to a lope.

And we are once again off to the races.

We have been backtracking along Spud's shortcut. As we near the spot where it meets the trail at the base of the switchback hill, we hear a rider approaching fast from our right. We turn and pull our rifles. As he approaches, we realize that it is our scout, Wolf.

"They backtrack, Spud track and others, seem to be together. Maybe two or three. Come," says Wolf after skidding to a stop next to me. "They head toward MadDog."

We turn down that trail and slow to a jog, to rest our and the horse's muscles.

At the next change of horses, Buzz asks me, "Sir Jacob told me quite a bit, but I am unsure. Why were Crystal and Zeb fighting each other?"

"Someone stole Spud's horse, they pointed fingers at each other. Other than that, sounds like it's the map," says I. I go on to relate Zeb's story.

"While you walked Crystal in, surely you asked her side of things?" asks Buzz.

"Waste of time. She is a lying bitch."

"Ah," says Buzz. "You two have a history."

"Yep, bad blood. Very bad blood."

Sir Jacob looks at Buzz and shrugs.

"And the Ugh you mentioned?" asks Buzz.

"Hard to say, that also needs more investigation," says Sir Jacob.

"Well, maybe I might be understatin' it a bit," I say. "But it seems to me that it has all gotten fuckin' crazy. I suppose Jonny Soames, Mitch and Crystal could be working together. And double crossin' one another at the same time. Then Zeb and Trixie are their own gang or an innocent pilgrim expedition."

Buzz laughs and says, "Time will tell. One wonders who would have known or cared enough about all of our movements to have sent an Ugh. Likely it has nothing to do with us. Maybe those other factions are spying on one another."

"Yeah, who knows," I say.

"I can't wait to see the rest of the map," says Sir Jacob.

"Yeah," I say.

"Funny though, Mitch has older bite wounds, human bites. He must have been in an earlier altercation," says Sir Jacob. "We must ask."

"Holy cow. Maybe he is the one who captured Shaz. Mose said she bit the hell out of her captor," I say.

"Bloody hell. I didn't know."

"You must of missed the tellin' of that part of the story," I say. "Mose was speculatin' that maybe the captor would bleed out from his bites. Guess there was a fair amount of blood where Shaz and him fought. Fuck me, I knew that not shootin' Mitch was a mistake."

"Curiouser and curiouser," says Sir Jacob.

"If he is the one," I say. "Shaz has a bone to pick with him."

"Quite," says Sir Jacob.

"Shit, fuck. The guy who captured Shaz, the one who took the other quartz buffalo from the buffalo spirit cave. Damn, if it is Mitch, he could have lost it in the river," I say, "Son of a bitch. Suppose he would have been stupid enough to try to take it across in that flood? It could be lost or damaged beyond...damn."

"Not to worry, Annie. We shall persevere," says the ever optimistic Buzz. "If it is in the river, it will have sunk to the bottom. In any case, the man is alive still to question. We shall work it out."

"Hope it ain't shattered to pieces by the current and debris," I say.

"What is is," says Buzz.

After the horses drink, we saddle fresh ones and walk them a few paces. Then, we double-check our cinches and climb on the fresh horses.

Just before we tap them with our spurs, I say, "Damn, confusion makes my brain hurt. I wanted to live a quiet, peaceful life."

"Mm," says Buzz, nodding.

"You know," I add, shrugging. "Cowgirls just wanna have fun."

The buffalo carvings, the map and all the rest give us food for thought for the next few hours.

We have been able to keep the remuda together save for two exhausted dropouts.

Many miles later we switch back to our first mounts a couple of miles outside of MadDog and abandon the rest. They are too tired to keep up and will most likely graze their way home.

Eschewing the saddle change, I undo the cinch and drop my saddle on the ground. Going bareback saves weight, which makes it easier on the horse. I have the reins in my left hand and my rifle in the other. Since we are headed to town, I figure the food supplies on my saddle are no longer needed.

My first mount, Spike, already gave his best, but the riderless time in between has given him a second wind. Wolf is also bareback. Our two horses stretch out and, being lighter without saddles, we pull ahead of Sir Jacob and Buzz.

As we head around the last corner and into town, a guy steps off the covered boardwalk in front of the Sheriff's office and hails us with a tilt of the head and a wave. I start to raise my rifle.

Wolf says, "Relax, that is Deputy Tindall."

The deputy is holding out a hand to stop us. He has a shotgun balanced over his shoulder pointed toward the sky. He grabs Wolf's rein as his horse stops.

"Wolf, out to the Spaceport. Two guys, and Spud. He didn't look happy, acted weird. They want to fly out. Sky is trying to delay them," Tindall says. "Hurry."

We speed back up, rifles across our laps, ready. I look back to see a young kid trot up to the deputy, leading a horse. Tindall mounts it. He digs in his heels to join us. Hopefully, we ain't too far behind Spud and them.

Tindall catches us up and asks, "What is going on?"

"You seem to know more'n we do," I say.

As we turn a tight corner, I grab a big lock of mane with my rein hand, almost losin' my seat.

After I right myself, I add, "Sounds like someone maybe captured Spud?"

Tindall nods.

"Good guys, bad guys, who the fuck knows? Why else would Sky try to delay them? Somethin's wrong. We gotta save the Sheriff," says Tindall. "He runs this town."

Spud? Run a town? I'm thinking Tindall is maybe a mite simpleminded. But he is on our side. So I shut up. Hell, you ask me, Spud is just fine as plain ol' eye candy.

Wolf pulls out ahead of me. Tindall is a few strides behind me. As our horses sprint into the Spaceport, I can see four people standing on the tarmac by the access ramp to the Shitkicker.

As we get closer, I recognize Sky standing outside the shuttle in intense conversation with another man. Spud is standing off a couple of paces with his arms behind his back. A third guy is trying to hide it, but from his attitude, I think he is holding a gun on Spud. As we close in, it sounds like Sky and the first guy are arguing over space fare.

Wolf yells, "Ho." And waves his rifle.

They stop talking and look over at the wild, bare chested, rifle waving Injin racing flat out toward them, his horse's hooves clattering on the tarmac. His long hair, feathers and all, is flowing and bouncing in the wind generated by the horse's long fast strides.

The guy next to Spud is quick. He moves up close and grabs Spud's shackled hands, raising a pistol barrel to his head. The guy talking to Sky pulls a pistol and aims it at Wolf.

"Hold the ship. We need to talk," Wolf says, pulling on the reins and sliding his horse to a stop in front of them. His rifle is pointed at the guy talking to Sky.

I slide Spike in next, leaving space between myself and Wolf. I have the rifle at my shoulder, aimed at Spud's captor.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" I ask, to break the tension. "You plan to kidnap everyone on this planet?"

They look baffled. Just another no sense of humor crowd.

"I am Deputy Regional Officer of Planet Operations," says the guy who was talking to Sky. He is average height or short, as we freakishly tall folk say, and has buzz cut dishwater blonde hair. He is wearing brand new, off the shelf, cowboy clothes. "This man is a fugitive from justice. We have legally apprehended him and are returning him to the outpost on Proxima Pi."

"Oh, I didn't realize that you were the Deputy Regional Officer of Planet Operations. That sounds important. Hah," I scoff. "How do you pronounce that? Dropo or just Drops?"

Drops turns red. His head looks like it may explode. He wiggles his gun barrel like maybe I hadn't noticed it and says, "Hey."

Finally, at long last, Deputy Tindall arrives beside me. Okay, maybe just a few seconds have passed. But, as these high adrenaline situations do, it seems like way longer. Tindall raises his shotgun. I point at his badge and say, "Our lawman here has a different story. Let me tell it to ya."

God forbid what Tindall might dream up.

"No, I got this," says Tindall. He takes a second to think.

While all this diversionary commotion is going on, I see Buzz and Sir Jacob sneak up on foot and hide behind the ramp.

Oh, crap. Don't no bad guys turn their heads.

"Our sheriff here," I say quickly, waving an arm to keep their attention off of anything Buzz and his Lordship might be doing behind them. I point at Wolf and add, "was just tryin' on his costume fer the Founders Day parade." Not a great quick thinker, me.

Wolf takes the figurative reins, saying in a commanding voice, "You owe us an explanation here. You cannot remove a prisoner from my jurisdiction without filing the correct form with the local court. The justice office is in downtown MadDog, across the street from the Short Branch Saloon. They are open now for your convenience."

I am staring wide-eyed and slack jawed at my laconic Injin companion. He actually can speak full on English. Several sentences at a time even. Easy to forget that.

Tindall whispers to me out of the corner of his mouth, "Shut yore mouth, yore catchin' flies."

"Captain Pilot," Wolf continues. "You are to cease and desist. You cannot give passage to these persons until they have been cleared by me and also by the proper port authorities."

"I was just about to explain that, Sheriff," says Sky. "Soon as we got a trip price figured out."

Wolf looks back at the bad guys, "Fortunately, I have an empty cell. I will be able to extend you the courtesy of placing your prisoner in my cell block while you complete your mandatory paperwork."

Wolf swings a leg over his horse's withers and slides off, keeping his rifle aimed at Drops. Tindall has his shotgun aimed at Drops also, since he seems to be in charge.

Wolf lowers his rifle and walks over to Spud. Wolf roughly grabs an elbow. He quickly frogmarches Spud, none too carefully, back toward MadDog.

Why on Rock they don't shoot him, I have no idea. On the other hand, he is large, intimidating and mesmerizing. Not to mention cute.

They stand and watch Wolf march off with Spud, mouths open and guns dangling. Sky trips Drops. Drops earns his new nickname, dropping flat to the pavement. Sky stands like the great white hunter, with one booted foot on Drops back. He has a tiny derringer in his fist, pointed at Drops back.

He says, "Make a move, bureaucrat."

Simultaneously, Sir Jacob has sauntered quietly in. He tries to grab the guy with the goatee who was holding Spud. Goatee must hear or feel his approach. He is quick, turning into Sir Jacob, whose knife just happens to be in the perfect position to slit the guy's throat. Oopsie.

Buzz stands up from behind the ramp and holsters his big pistol. He bends over and picks up the dying goatee guy. Blood is still pulsing out of a severed carotid artery. He throws the guy over his shoulder like a 150 lb. sack of potatoes. It looks like child's play for a man the size of Buzz. As he walks away, the dying man goes into his death throws, twisting and jerking around. Buzz is unfazed.

"Powers," I say.

Tindall looks over at me and says, "What?"

"Oh, nothing. Just noticed how powerful my friend Buzz is. Big guy, you know."

"Yeah," Tindall pauses then adds, "You know, he looks a lot like Spud."

"Yeah, I know," I say, shrugging. "All tall folks look alike."

Tindall looks at me, puzzled. True though, happens to me anytime there is another tall woman around. Strangers can't tell us apart..

We all head back toward the sheriff's office. I dismount and lead my and Wolf's horses, cooling them out. They have more than earned their keep today. I take them to a holding pen outside the big wood barn, where they drink thirstily out of the trough and happily attack the hay I throw in.

Tindall shows up as I am about to leave.

"Hope I ain't stealing from no one," I say.

"No," he says. "This is the sheriff's hay. The rest belongs to the town. Set up by Spud for folks to use if needed. They pay fer the water and feed. I run it, since the deputy work ain't a busy work."

He unsaddles his horse and puts it in with ours. I walk to the Sheriff's office. Tindall heads off somewhere else.

"Holy shit, Spud. Already back in the sheriff's chair?" I ask. "Don't Wolf get to try it out fer jest a second?"

Spud makes a face and says, "Injins can't be sheriffs."

"Sure glad this worked out," I say. "No way was I goin' back to the evil Proxima Pi in order to save yore sorry ass."

I walk over and give him a big kiss.

"Thanks fer the sentiment and the save, darlin'."

"Not a problem."

"Um, am I hallucinatin' or did Buzz have a miraculous recovery?" asks Spud.

"Recovery?" I ask.

"Yeah, he got shot. I saw him fall. I was just coming over a ridge when the shooting started below me. These same two guys against Buzz. He fell. I started shooting, they returned fire, and before you know it they was chasing me out of the country. They caught me clean in the end. After they captured me, we rode back by where Buzz fell, I saw a fair amount of blood on the ground. But Buzz was gone."

"He never said a word to me when he showed up at Sir Jacob's. Maybe just a graze?"

"Huh," he says, "he sure fell hard. Glad he's okay."

I walk over to the cellblock door and look in. "Where is the new prisoner, Mr. Dropsy Drops?"

"Sir Jacob took him off to check his head, wouldn't want to lose a prisoner to concussion," says Spud. "He also needs to identify his dead buddy fer the paperwork. I sent Tindall over to fill it out."

"Didn't know you did paperwork."

"Tindall is the book guy, a lazy book guy, anyway. Once in a while he needs to fill out a paper, makes him feel official. Rogue Centrists are his favorite."

"Ah. Nice."

"I trained him. Kinda proud," he says, adjusting his belt in that proud of hisself way. "Boys are meetin' us over to the Short Branch."

"I'm thirsty, starved and maybe a tad bit saddle sore," I say, "Let's go."

"You go ahead. I got a bit of housekeepin' to do here."

"'Kay." I head across the street, wanting to sit in a chair where I won't have to move for a while should my riding muscles happen to seize up. A little muscle relaxing brew might be in order also.

Charley is behind the bar, talking to the help. She sees me walk in and follows me back to the boys' favorite corner table.

I set down just as she puts a flagon of beer on the table in front of me.

"Hey Charley," I say, smiling. "What's the haps?"

"I heard you've had a long day."

"Yep. Small town, word travels fast," I say. I look out the window. I can see Buzz and Wolf talking on the boardwalk outside. "Hunks."

She smiles and nods in agreement. I down about half the flagon in one long thirst satisfying drink.

Looking back out the window, I ask, "Hey, you ever noticed how aliens are almost always portrayed ugly and creepy looking?"

"Sure, I've heard plenty of those creepy alien tales."

"What if, instead of that, aliens were extremely handsome and so hot and sexy that they totally supplanted human men as the objects of our desire?"

Charley's eyes get wide. She doesn't have to think about that for very long at all. She laughs and says, "Yeah, I like it."

# 43 Nowhere

I sit quietly, sipping the rest of my beer and wondering where we have gotten in this mess. I hope it's not nowhere. Upbeat, eh? Then I remember that we lost Spud there for a while. We did manage to get him back in one piece. In the nick of time, no less. That cheers me up no end. I lean back, put my booted feet up on a chair and relax.

Not much later, the boys show up. They look about as tired as I feel.

Sir Jacob grabs a quick kiss from Charley and introduces her to Buzz. She shakes Buzz' hand, then hugs Spud and Wolf.

"Damn Spud, be more careful," she says. "We depend on you."

"What fer?" he asks.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to hear the answer to," she says and chuckles.

The boys walk back to sit with me. Buzz stays at the bar ordering two pitchers and some trays of snacks. In a bit, he comes back to join us.

Spud looks happy, but haggard. Sir Jacob and Wolf look spent. I feel about half dead. Buzz looks bright eyed and bushy tailed.

"Damn it Buzz, we all look like shit. You look like you are ready to wrassle a mountain lion," I say.

Sir Jacob catches my eye and says, "Powers," in an undertone.

"No shit. Wow," I say and shake my head in amazement.

Buzz says wryly, "I work out."

We all laugh.

"Did you get shot out there?"

"Just grazed me, not to worry." He smiles.

Fortunately the beer and pupus arrive before we mere humans fall asleep sitting up.

A fine plate of food arrives for each of us not long after. BBQ pork ribs in fact, with fixin's. The aroma fills me with joy. Charlie sets the platters in front of us on the big oak table. Roasted tater rounds, barbecued broccoli flowers and zucchini slices. Ooh ta.

I tell Spud, "Now I remember why you raise them stinky ol' pigs."

I likely said it before but I enjoy teasing him about the foul smelling creatures.

Sir Jacob looks around the room. It is early enough that we have the bar to ourselves. The bartender and Charley are far enough away that we have privacy.

He nods and says, "The coast is clear."

"Do we have a plan?" asks Spud.

"We have Drops to question, plus the four river rats."

"What about Crystal?" asks Spud. "You sure she is bad?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? Don't you trust my judgment?" I ask.

"Folks can change," he says, shrugging.

I laugh and say sarcastically, "Oh yeah, she accused me of being a horse thief and a bank robber. Which caused a bounty to be placed on my head. Or the head of Roxanne Rockefeller. Had to split town, actually planet, and change my name. But, I should forgive her. Okay, why not, been a long damn day.

"And there is her partner to forgive, too. Mitch. Wolf snared him just as the bastard was threatening to shoot me dead."

Spud is shaking his shad. "Sorry darlin', yore right, been a long day fer me also."

Sir Jacob says, "I am thinking that the best way to approach this, since the four out at my place are still recuperating, is to take Drops there. We will have to blindfold the bastard. Bloody wanker, I'd prefer to just kill him, but we need information if we are ever to figure this out. He may know things the others do not. We must be careful that he too learns nothing of the whereabouts of Arse End though. It's truly a bastard of a fix in which we have found ourselves."

He mulls that over a bit and adds, "Every other idea I can think of seems longer and more complicated. I believe we need to chance it. Time is not on our side."

We all think it over and nod. We tell Spud and Wolf about Zeb's map and expedition stories over dessert. Goat milk ice cream. Yowza.

I rouse myself and ask, "Okay, I'm beat. Where do we sleep? My soogans are at Sir Jacobs. My saddle is on the ground where I dropped it off of Jethro. Spike is about dead."

"No Annie, horse fine, but need rest. Annie look like she be lucky to live 'til mornin'."

"You really think that's a compliment, Wolf?" I smile.

Sky walks in in his brightly colored Hawaiian shirt and off duty flip flops. He is even wearing a flower lei around his neck. Actually, seems like he was wearing them while piloting us to Pi and back. Flip flops, Hawaii's cowboy boot. Sky looks around and nods to us. Spud waves him over to the table. He gestures to the barkeep to bring another glass.

In a minute, Charley walks over with Sky's beer, puts it down and says, "You boys."

She looks at me, and adds, "and girls, can sleep on my floor if need be. I have got lots of blankets."

Spud smiles wearily and says, "Thank you kindly, ma'am."

"Hey, buddy," says Spud, reaching over to shake Sky's hand. "Thank you. You saved my ass this afternoon."

"Things didn't look kosher. Between the look on your face and the way those guys was standing so close to you, kind of gave it away," says Sky. "You didn't look anxious to go with them, either. All the rest was guesswork. Luckily, Tindall was there visiting."

"Yeah, how did Tindall figure out that we were coming?" I ask.

"Didn't. He said he had just gone back to the office to pick up a shotgun. He was trying to figure out a plan for saving Spud all by his lonesome. He worships our sheriff you know," says Sky. "Then you and Wolf came barreling around the corner. Saved the damn day."

"Yep. All alive and well, just some ugly loose ends to deal with here and there," says Spud.

"So, you never saw Michael's signal?" I ask Sky.

"No. I've been stuck down here since yesterday, can't see Jacob's signal hill from here," says Sky. "Shuttle has a broken steering stabilizer. I wouldn't of been able to take them anywhere. I was just jawin' to keep them tied up 'til Tindall got back."

"You need one a them doohickeys on the other shuttle like Sir Jacob has on that automatic car of his out on Pi." I say. "He sends it a silent signal, like callin' a dog. It runs right over, opens the door for ya. It just about pants and wags its tail, too."

"If only. Unfortunate reality is, I need a part to go anywhere. Or a lift to get back up to the Cosmos."

"Yeah. All this damn running around savin' folks has purt' near dried up the Bar None treasure chest," says Spud. "We need to get things finished up."

"You could take the fuel bill fer the trip to Proxima Pi out of Paint's pay," I say.

"Yeah, fer the next hundred years or so. He's a ranch kid. He don't get pay. Just room, board and valuable experience," says Spud. "And he's gettin' a reduction in that. Mebbe cut his rations in half." Spud chuckles. "Teenagers will eat you out of house and home."

Wolf nods at that.

"Hell, ain't like any of us are makin' money," he continues. "Not any of us get pay. We're wilderness ranchers, lucky to eat. Pay is in the pretty sunsets."

"Warm clothes, good horses, fine firearms," adds Wolf.

I chime in, "Gay compadres, British Lords."

Looking at the sleek muscles on our bright eyed, bushy tailed friend, I add, "Superhuman companions."

Buzz smiles. Nice smile, I like it.

# 44 Backtrackin'

In the morning, Spud retrieves Dropsy Drops from the jail. We saddle up our weary steeds and head out to Arse End. No need to get folks wondering, so we leave Drops untied but in my cross hairs, until we are beyond prying eyes. I keep my revolver aimed at Drops, but out of sight. Once we are a ways out of town, Spud ties Drops' hands to the saddle horn. Sir Jacob places the feedbag over his head and ties it on.

We trundle along for a while. Slow feels good after yesterday's race. I am silently enjoying the easy rock and roll of my horse's walk. Spike is happy that he only has to walk.

Actually, I don't know what he is thinking. So I ask, "Say Spike, does it feel good to not be lopin' fer miles on end?"

Spike nods his head and says, "Bbbbbbh."

"See?" I say to Wolf. "He is happy to be walkin'. He is stretchin' the kinks out of his sore muscles."

"Scout, too." Wolf smiles and nods sagely.

When we get to where we dropped the saddles the afternoon before, Wolf and I stop. We shake the dust out of our blankets and throw the saddles back on. Then, we trot out to catch up with our compañeros.

Our serenity is broken by Drops, who. Like Crystal, is a bitcher. He says, "Hey, it is hot in this fucking bag. And it smells like fucking oats."

Wolf jogs his horse up alongside and whispers into the place where Drops' ear might be inside the feedbag.

'White man not need liver?' he appears to ask. May not be a direct quote. The knife Wolf unobtrusively places against Drops' side likely helps get his attention. In any case, Drops shuts right up.

"You softenin' him up fer later?" I ask.

Wolf smiles. Then he looks over and points, "Jethro and Comanche."

Sure enough, our other horses are eating their way home. We find more dropouts just over the hill beyond them. They will eventually make their way back to Spud's. If any don't, we will go out and round them up.

During the ride, we brief Buzz about all of our fun and exciting adventures since we last saw him. When we mention the Ugh, Buzz looks quizzical.

We arrive at Sir Jacob's just in time to avert starvation. I am also still plumb tuckered from our marathon.

After everything is unsaddled, we park the horses, and throw them some hay. We head into that land of Rock royalty best known as the Arse End of Nowhere.

I am in the lead as we walk up the entry tunnel to the front door. As I swing it open, Michael greets us with a shotgun at the ready. He recognizes me and relaxes. A big smile creases his cheeks. He slots the shotgun back into its rack over the door and grabs me for a hug and kiss.

"Security?" I ask, looking up at the shotgun rack.

Michael shrugs and flips his long bangs, "I heard a weird sound. Like a cowbell."

Sir Jacob says, "Indeed. I forgot to tell Michael the latest password. Therefore, on the way out, it was necessary to set up the trip wire I have placed down the trail a bit. Sounds a bell in here. Good idea security wise in any case."

"Aha." I say.

Michael asks, "This security alarm remains active?"

Sir Jacob nods and says, "Indeed, I think it is prudent given our current situation."

His Lordship leads the way. Spud marches Drops, feedbag and all, down into the shop area. I follow along to help. Sir Jacob turns into a large workroom, where there is a heavy steel workbench. It has holes near the edges, looks like it was built for working metal. Sir Jacob runs a heavy chain through one of the holes. Spud cuffs Drops to the chain links and removes the feedbag. Drops tries to look tough.

He looks around at the five of us and decides maybe pissing his pants is a better choice. We are large and in charge. Simply, he is a regular size person. We are not. Michael and Sir Jacob, both about six feet, are our token short guys.

We leave Drops to think it over and head back to the map room. Over lunch, I ask the boys, "What is yore strategy for gettin' info out of that trio of thugs?"

"What are you thinkin?" Spud asks me.

"That it ain't exactly my area of expertise."

"Same thing I was thinkin'."

"'Bout you or me?"

Spud smiles big at this and says, "You, definitely you."

"Smartass."

Buzz says, "I would appreciate the chance to interview Zeb and his wife. I have questions for the pair."

"Hey, yeah, you got powers to cover that?" I ask.

"Ahem," says Buzz. "Actually, Bãngh are Bãngh. We are that which we are. Perhaps I should explain.

"After arriving on Britannia, I heard rumors of aliens with powers. I had never heard of such a thing as powers. I was curious and listened to such tales carefully, but these aliens seemed to be a form of folkloric fiction.

"I did, in the course of time, make friends at Oxford. In the very persons of Sir Jacob and Sir Steven, or Mose, as you call him. They introduced me to the idea and practice of partaking of spirituous liquors. Which I quite liked and indeed practiced, often to excess.

"It was in the course of several days of celebration that I revealed a small thing that led to them discovering my being from Bãngh. Fortunately for me, we were by this time fast friends. They accepted me unconditionally. It was quite kind of them."

Sir Jacob, looking humble, nods at this.

"A small thing?" I ask.

Buzz looks puzzled at my tone.

Sir Jacob saves him, saying. "Not that thing."

Buzz is still baffled. Not an idiom Buzz is familiar with, apparently. The rest laugh.

Spud looks at me and says, "Don't be mean, Annie."

Sir Jacob whispers to Buzz, who turns bright red.

"Sorry, Buzz, just a joke, No offense intended," I say.

"Ahem. In that case, let me continue. You all seem to know Sir Jacob very well," Buzz waves a hand toward his Lordship. "He was as curious a man then as he is now. Our differences were the subject of many, albeit, mostly drunken conversations amongst the three of us. We would invent challenges and compare talents in an effort to discover the differences between our species. However, being inebriated, we would remember little or nothing the proximate day.

"So you see, I do not know what powers I may have. I also do not know what powers humans may lack. In fact, is it not possible that humans have more powers than Bãngh?" He pauses for effect.

We all look around at each other. Who knows?

"In answer to your question? It remains to be seen." Buzz shrugs and spreads his hands in a theatrical 'I do not know'.

"Oh. Kinda like do humans look like Bãngh or vice versa? Or something else," I trail off confused. "You got the cat mirror, but different, eye thing goin' for ya."

"Ah, yes. Quite," Buzz beams.

"And the knowin' things are comin' before they make a sound or arrive in sight deal," I add. "Also, you knew that Painter was in that one particular van."

"And possibly, I believe, more than that," says Sir Jacob, "although as Buzz says there was an inordinate amount of college style drinking involved.

"Okay," says Spud, shaking his head. He is still not a fan of 'mumbo jumbo'.

"Never another choice. Only now," says Wolf. Who, as I may have mentioned, is a firm believer in the now.

We stand up. Michael heads for the kitchen. I trail along behind.

"Not going to help interrogate?" I ask as I help him dish up the food and pour drinks.

"They need to eat, too," Michael says as he get out plates and trays, "Besides, I missed all the excitement, why change things now?"

"Hey," I say, grabbing Michael for a hug. "I still love you best."

"I wasn't suffering," says Michael. "I was locked up here with the wine and the roman baths. I had plenty of safe, clean fun. You guys had the hard time."

"Yeah, but I know you hate to miss a hard time."

Michael laughs and says, "You got me there, sweetie."

I go back into the living area and get Buzz. He looks nervous.

"I hated to reveal that I may be any less than you believe, Annie," he says shyly.

"Buzz, I think yore great," I say, feelin' a bit shy myself. Hot dang, Buzz is cute.

We start back toward the clinic and shop areas.

After some thought, I add, "However, if tall people is Bãngh and I turn out to be half Bãngh, I damn sure want some of them awesome powers. Fictional or not."

Buzz laughs, looking relieved. He really is a nice guy, er, Bãngh.

But, duty calls, so I head down to help out with the prisoners.

Spud has Crystal in a cleaning room, handcuffed and tied an solid upright.

"How's it going?" I ask.

"Cat's got her tongue," says Spud.

I go into the shop and get Mitch. Then I fetch Buzz and Sir Jacob, who have been talking with Zeb and Trixie.

"Zeb says that Newzona is east of here. It is supposed to be a temperate gardening zone with long growing seasons in both winter and summer, perfect for farming and ranching. Have you been there, your Lordship?"

"I have not heard of it. During terraforming we worked near the ocean," he says. "Maybe Crystal or Mitch knows."

We head back down the hall to talk to Mitch, who is in the shop tied to the blacksmith anvil. When we get in the room with Mitch, Buzz walks over close. Mitch is almost as tall.

"Sit down," I say, "Crystal hasn't told her story. Now is your chance to get the first word in."

He hesitates.

"First one to talk straight lives. Count of ten," says a voice.

I look around. Spud has walked in. He goes over and stands next to Buzz.

Spud tilts his head and says, "One, two, three, four,"

We hear Crystal yell from down the hall.

"Sounds like Crystal beat you to it."

Buzz and Spud walk out.

"Fuck, I just...They just...We..." Mitch stammers.

"Those guys aren't patient. Talk to me. You do want to be first, right?" I say. "I have pull around here. I can get mercy for you."

Mitch is holding his beat-up face in his hands. He looks up, "Mercy? You?"

"Maybe there's still feelin's, Mitch. I know Crystal is the bad one. I know she led you astray. I remember that deep inside you are a good guy. They real you. Crystal is like a cancer. Her evil spread to you.

"But I don't hold the reins here, they plan to kill one of you, torture the other, unless you tell them everything," I say. "It's okay. You likely got a part or two you won't miss when they cut 'em off."

Mitch sits up straight at that. His eyes would widen in fear if they weren't so swollen.

Michael walks in and says, "Excuse me, this man needs his medication."

"Sure. Get him well enough to hang?" I ask sarcastically. "Why waste good medicine?"

"No, he is in imminent danger. It started in the stomach wound, now it's in his veins. He needs this shot for the blood poisoning. He won't live more than 12 hours without these antibiotics."

"Oh, well, in that case, no shot yet," I say, turning to Mitch. "Guess you got 12 hours. Talk."

"But..." he hesitates.

"Okay, I'll go talk to the third guy. What is his name? Little guy, Drops. Talkative. You know him?"

Mitch remains mute.

"We need to know who else is involved. We need to know all that you know about the maps."

"Can't, I don't know. I can't," he puts his head back in his hands, sobbing softly. "Crystal will kill me."

"Crystal ain't walkin' out of here alive," I say.

Michael and I start to leave.

"Wait," says Mitch. "That Buzz guy. Is he...?"

"I will send him back in," says Michael.

Mitch is shaky now. And pale, in the spots that aren't blue, yellow and purple.

Buzz returns. He pulls a chair over and sits near Mitch. I go over and sit by the back wall so I can keep an eye the doorway.

"Tell me how you ended up here," says Buzz quietly. "Start from when the whole process began."

"This fellow I am acquainted with approached me," says Mitch.

"Where were you?" asks Buzz. "What was the fellows name?"

"I was strolling around the Farmers Market on Proxima Pi. Lookin' for lunch. Jonny, I didn't know his last name. Now I know it is Soames. He said he needed a good actor to impersonate a really tall guy, looked like me. All I needed to do was bleach my hair blonde," says Mitch. "Jonny offered me big money. We went in the alley and talked it through. Seemed easy. He told me what to buy, western clothes and cowboy boots. I wore them up to 'til I got wet the first time in the river, then I changed back to my own clothes. Anyhow, he gave me a big wad of piasters and said it was only the first half.

"I got set up and met him the next day. We flew out here."

"Are you him? Or is it that mean looking blonde guy?" asks Mitch. "Oh, wait youare the one with the Brit accent. Must be you."

Buzz ignores the question and asks. "Where is the buffalo carving?"

Spud comes around the corner. He opens his mouth. I shake my head. He sits and listens.

Mitch is saying, "When I got to the river I started to hide it. It was too heavy, no way could I get it across those raging waters. I knew I would lose it in the current."

"Why did you need to get across, why not wait for the flood to subside?" I ask.

"Jonny was coming back. He was on a tight schedule. He was gonna pay me for the carving and he wanted the maps, too. I had to meet him and take him to the buffalo to get paid.

"Also, there was supposed to be a big bonus if we completed the mission on time. Heh heh. They called it a mission. Said it was all hush hush, like a spy story," says Mitch, chuckling at the thought. "But we needed the maps, too. We didn't find them."

"Anyhow, while I was hiding it, Soames showed up. Said he couldn't get across either. So I gave him the buffalo."

"How much did he pay you?"

"Nothing. Fucker said his money was across the river. He pulled a gun and took it from me."

"Okay."

"So, can I get my meds now?" continues Mitch.

"Yes, yes," says Buzz, waving a hand. He looks preoccupied.

"Sure," I say. "I'll get the Doctor."

I go back to the map room and send Michael down.

"He wants his meds," I say. "Go save his life."

Michael smiles and says, "Yep, saline solution trumps 'blood poisoning' every time."

He walks out.

Sir Jacob waves me over and says, "Michael made these fabulous sandwiches. Help yourself."

I start filling a plate.

Sir Jacob continues, "I am glad we got a minute alone together. I have something to share."

As he opens his mouth to speak, we hear Spud and Buzz' voices coming from the tunnel. They are about to enter the room.

Sir Jacob says quietly in my ear, "About Buzz. He can do extraordinary things, what he doesn't realize is that we can't. He has the endurance of ten of us. Back at Oxford, Buzz was too inebriated at the time to notice that Sir Steven and I were not nearly as drunk. I have fuzzy memories of experiencing his powers. Unfortunately quite fuzzy, also much time has passed, but I believe that he..."

We hear Spud and Buzz approaching. They are just outside the room.

Sir Jacob continues in an undertone, "It is best that we keep 'powers' as merely a jest among ourselves."

"Okay," I say conspiratorially, full of questions.

Sir Jacob, speaking in a normal voice, says, "I really don't know what to think."

Spud and Buzz appear as we sit at the table and start eating our sandwiches.

I finish chewing, swallow and say, "Grits, guys."

"Shee-it, looks good," says Spud, as he grabs a sandwich and a chair.

Sir Jacob says, "Michael made these for us. Prime rib, sliced thin, and Lady Beverly's smoked goat Gouda on fresh baked rye, onions, fresh lettuce and tomatoes, too."

"Sir Jacob," I say looking up from my food. "You must have a garden."

"Lady Beverly and I dabble a bit," he says nonchalantly.

We hungrily chomp down Michael's fabulous lunch. Eating keeps us happily occupied for a while.

I finish my plateful, slide my chair away from the huge table and put my feet up on it. It is a thick pine slab, very much like the one that Spud has at his place, only bigger. Big enough to seat his Lordship, her Ladyship and quite a few minions. Makes sense, the jack-of-all-trades boys likely built this table, too. Here they went for royal proportions, fitting for Sir Jacob's underground castle.

"So what the hell is goin on?" Sir Jacob asks us. "Did anyone ask Zeb and Trixie where their people are camped?"

"No, I ain't. They ain't told us that yet," says Spud between bites. "How about you, Buzz?"

# 45 Night Riders

"I must digress," says Buzz. "That night on the Spirit Quest when the four of us were camped, I was awakened by sounds. On investigation, it proved to be a group of riders passing at a distance. I saddled quickly, rode out and found their sign. I followed them at a respectable distance. They were heading toward..." Buzz stops and holds the shush finger to his mouth. Rolling his eyes back and forth, as he listens intently.

He whispers, "Company." And puts his hands under the edge of the table, miming lifting it up and looking suggestively at the rest of us. We nod.

"Hands up!"

We drop out of our chairs, heave the table up onto its side and pull our revolvers before it hits the ground. Not necessarily a smart move, but it works. The thick slab tabletop gives us bullet absorbing cover. The clatter of dishes, glasses and food hitting the floor helps provide a distraction. Sure surprises our attackers, who no doubt planned to catch us flatfooted.

Buzz and Spud are already shooting at random to provide cover, but not peeking over the edge. Sir Jacob and I have each scrambled down to opposite ends of the big slab. I peek around and see three guys. The commotion I heard was partly made by the intruders, scrambling for cover themselves. One is behind the doorframe, I can see the barrel of his revolver. I see a shotgun barrel barely sticking out from behind the big walnut desk. And I hear a scuffle off to my right. Then a shot. This one has only an overstuffed chair for cover. Bullets penetrate overstuffed chairs in my experience, so I shoot the chair dead center. He yelps. Then...

'Bang.'

"Ahhh..."

The guy in the hallway keels over into the room, dead.

"Got 'em. Don't shoot me," Michael's shotgun barrel appears in the doorway. Then Michael himself edges around the door frame, glancing everywhere. He looks right and says, "Shotgun is dead."

"Watch out for the guy behind that chair," I say. "He may not be dead."

"I can hit him from here if he moves," says Michael.

I see movement off to the left in my peripheral vision. Sir Jacob fires and the guy behind the desk falls out into my view. And goes limp.

Spud is crawling over from the opposite side, while Michael and I stay ready.

He checks and says, "Good shooting Annie, he's kilt."

Michael continues, "Sorry it took me so long, I heard the bell and went looking to see who was at the door."

"The bell?" asks Sir Jacob. "We heard nothing in here. What the bloody hell."

"Where is Wolf?" asks Spud.

Michael says, "He was in the clinic when I injected the saline into Mitch."

"Okay, let's spread out."

"I shall head for the front entry," says Sir Jacob. "Spud, check the greenhouse area. Michael the horses."

"I'll check on Wolf and the prisoners," I say, heading down the tunnel, revolver in hand.

Crystal is where we left her, head down, asleep. I walk on down the hall to find Mitch, the bleached blonde impostor. I don't see him. Thinking that someone moved him, I walk closer. He is there, lying behind the log anvil base, on the floor. His wrists are still held up to the anvil by the cuffs. Unconscious, but still breathing.

I go back toward the clinic thinking if someone was here and attacked Mitch, Crystal's sleep could be permanent. I am disgusted that I didn't check her pulse the first time. I head back that way.

I hear a noise and detour into the workshop, where we left Drops. He is alive. I walk in. He stands up, still cuffed to the workbench.

He says, "You are Annie, yes?"

"I'll ask the questions," I say, rattled but tough.

"Drop it," says a voice behind me. "And raise your hands."

I slowly set my revolver on the table and raise my hands.

"That isn't dropping," he says.

"Are you kidding me?" I gasp and say, "It's an antique. No safeties, Hair trigger. Dropping might break it. Or it might go off when it hits the floor and shoot one of us. How about if I promise not to touch it?"

This seems to piss him off, but it's true, mostly.

"Step away from the table, bitch," he says. "Walk around the other side and uncuff my friend."

"Look, I am not tryin' to cause trouble," I say, shrugging. "I actually don't have the keys."

"The fuck. Are you kidding me?" he says, wagging his pistol. "I'll be happy to kill you."

"Look, I have information you need," I say. "We should talk."

I wonder what info he needs. Fortunately, I am experienced at faking it.

"We need to get our asses out of here," says Drops. "Find a saw or chisel. Cut the damned chain, Jonny."

I want to see this Jonny, thinking of Soames. Maybe it's him. Voice sounds the same. I start to slowly turn my head.

"Bitch! Don't turn around. Grab something sharp and cut, saw, nippers, whatever. Get Fred the fuck out."

"Fred? I like Dropsy better. I suppose Drops isn't your last name either. Too bad, I really like..."

'Bam.'

"Uh," I say. I just fall.

# 46 My Big Mouth

"Argh." I open an eye, disoriented.

Someone squeezes my shoulder from behind.

I roll over, and focus my bleary eyes on a face. Wolf. He is holding the shush finger to his lips. Been seeing that a lot lately. Am I a chatterbox? I sit up, a bit dizzy and rub my eyes.

He helps me stand and leads me to a ladder. I climb up into the skylight with Wolf behind, steadying me. The skylight is open. We crawl onto the roof.

Wolf hands me a nice sniper looking rifle. I check the action, ah, .243, I like it. He tilts his head in the universal follow me sign and leads the way toward, well, somewhere. I am still disoriented. After a few yards, he gets down on hands and knees and looks back at me.. So I follow suit. We crawl over to a low wall. He looks through a cross-shaped loophole near the corner of the roof. Then he pulls back and motions me to look.

He whispers in my ear, "Watch, if bad guys come out, go in, whatever. Shoot to kill. You steady enough now?"

I nod.

He pokes his rifle though a loophole on the other side of the corner and sights down the barrel.

Between the two of us, we have an almost 270-degree view of the ground below us. The area just outside the front entrance to the fortress. On the other side of the wall are rock piles set in to camouflage the manmade wall from below. There is camo netting hung just above us to hide it from the taller mountains nearby. We sit patiently for a while. Nothing happens. Fine by me.

"Okay, Wolf go scout. You have a clear head?"

I nod and say, "I'm okay."

"I go below. You watch both ways," says Wolf. "Also, not shoot favorite lover."

"What makes you so sure yore my favorite?"

Wolf just smiles, sure. Gotta love a self-assured man.

He crawls over the wall and heads out into the rocks to our left. I watch all directions and keep an eye on his progress. It is boring work. Of course, if I miss anything, we could all die. A minor point. There is always reincarnation. If it exists.

Wolf circles and looks for sign. Finally, he climbs the hill back to my position. He leads me over to a different skylight and opens it carefully, while I cover him. We sit and listen for movement or voices for a few minutes. Nothing.

He leans down and scans the room for enemies. He ties off a rope and we rappel down into the roman baths. The noise of our movements is covered by the running water of the fountains. The downside is, we land in a tub full of water.

We drip a minute, towel off quickly and go. We do a room-by-room search, our pants still dripping some as we make our way through the bedrooms and their bathrooms. The kitchen. The map room show signs of our battle. Wolf leaves the clinic and shop area for last. The room with the unconscious Crystal holds only her limp form. Wolf lifts her head, there is a pool of blood under it. The blood is coagulated.

We continue down the hall to the fork, Wolf goes to the room where Dropsy was. One dead man, knifed. A stranger. No Dropsy.

We hear faint voices. We go back across the fork in the tunnels and stand against the wall by the doorway to the clinic.

A voice is saying, "Get them all tied good. They are not amateurs."

I peek around the doorframe on my side, revolver at the ready. I nod the okay and Wolf scoots across the doorway, revolver aimed in, ready to shoot. No one notices. Soames is in there. He is giving the orders. Drops and Mitch are tying Spud, Sir Jacob and Buzz.

I hear a...

'Psst'

...behind me. I turn my head, it's Michael.

I shrug and tilt my head toward the door. Trouble is, we can't shoot because the bad guys are standing between us and our friends.

Michael knows my shrugs well. He can hear Soames talking. He guesses the situation. He holds up his hand, gripping a knife. I look at Wolf who sees Michael and holsters his revolver. He also pulls out a hog sticker and nods okay. They look at me.

I peek around the corner, pistol barrel first. Mitch is in the middle. He spots me, his eyes widen and he falls, limp, to the floor. As if I shot him. Hunh. Soames and Drops, surprised, both look at Mitch.

I nod. Wolf and Michael slide down the wall and slip around the corner, crouching, into the room.

I aim at Soames and yell, "Hands in the air! Now!"

He turns and aims toward me, just as Wolf grabs his hair from behind and slits his throat.

Meantime, Michael has knifed Drops, who lets go of his gun as he falls. I hold my sights on Mitch, who hasn't moved since he fell.

Clean up is easy. All dead but one. A little blood on the floor adds color to an otherwise drab room. Ha ha.

"They shot this sucker," says Michael, listening to Mitch's chest.

"The guy catches a lot of bullets," I say. "Hope he lives to answer some questions."

Sir Jacob squats down and checks.

"Let's take him back to the clinic. It seems superficial," he says.

Four of us lift Mitch, keeping him mostly flat. Heavy fucker. We walk the down the tunnel to the clinic and lay him on a bed.

We leave the doctors to their life saving work and return to retrieve the dead bodies. We carry them to Sir Jacob's forensic death lab room.

"Good riddance to the evil Soames," I say as we lay him out on the gurney. "Hope his Lordship chops him up and runs him through the meat grinder, just to make sure he doesn't recorporate. Is that the word? Well, come back to life will do.

# 47 My Only Friends

We head back to whatever we were doing in the map room. Ah, yes, relaxing with a drink. I pour further libations.

"What's for dessert?" I ask, looking around the kitchen.

"Chocolate chip cookies," says Spud, holding one up.

We grab some and go lounge on the couches. Sir Jacob and Michael finish up with their patients and join us.

"They are resting quietly," says Michael.

"Buzz," I say, "You can tell the story."

"Yes," says Buzz. "Mitch took the buffalo from the cave. He met with Soames, who got the drop on him, took the carving and stiffed him. No money."

"Will we be able to retrieve it?" Sir Jacob asks.

"Mitch is likely to have an idea where Soames put it," says Buzz. "I trust that we can persuade him to share."

"I wonder why Soames had him bleach his hair and dress in cowboy clothes?" I ask.

"So that Mitch could wander about without drawing curiosity. He is tall like us. At a distance, if anyone other than us saw him, he could easily be mistaken for one of our crowd."

"Speaking of our crowd," I say. "What I don't understand Sir Jacob is how, if you, Mose and Buzz all went to Oxford together, Buzz is so much younger. That don't compute in my sorry brain."

"Ah," says Sir Jacob, raising a finger, "that is a good question."

He turns to Buzz and asks, "You were full grown, Buzz, when you arrived at Oxford?"

"Ah, yes, I was a young adult when my mother put me on the ship to Britannia ever so many years ago."

"You were like eighteen?" I ask.

"I was approximately sixteen, by your reckoning."

"Sixteen then. And you went right into Oxford?"

"Yes, early admission. We homeschool on Bãngh. Mama had me take Oxford entry exams."

"So, they were older?" I ask.

"They are a bit older, I suppose. Mose and Sir Jacob had a few adventures before entering school. They used to relate such exciting stories of exotic places," says Buzz. "They most certainly took me under their wing, as it were. Helped me to fit in with the crowd there. Earthkind, you know."

Sir Jacob smiles at the memory and says, "Buzz was in awe of us and our adventures. Likewise, we were fascinated by his alien life on Bãngh. As Sir Steven used to say, we sho' did take a shine to one anothah."

Sir Jacob continues, "The crux of the matter seems to me to be the rules of human aging. Buzz isn't subject to them."

We all look at him.

"Say what?" I ask.

"Bãngh are different, eh? Since they left Earth ever so many centuries ago, there have been mutations, changes in their DNA that have made them different from us," says Sir Jacob. "Buzz by my reckoning, is only two years younger than I. I believe the Bãngh, if they are not biologically immortal, at the very least, age much more slowly than we do. I mean, look at the man, he looks your age, but he must at least fifty. He hasn't aged a day since Oxford."

That raises some eyebrows.

Buzz says, "I don't understand."

"Bloody hell, man," he says, looking at Buzz. "I wish I had your complexion."

Buzz is still puzzled.

"Look at my face man, wrinkles. My hair is beginning to turn grey. You look closer in age to Spud and Annie."

"Pardon, but to me, humans all look alike," says Buzz. "More or less. However, now that you mention it. I believe you do look different than you did back at school."

Sir Jacob spreads his arms in acquiescence and says, "Much as I hate to admit it, the mirror ever reminds me."

"Hmph," says Spud, looking too young to ever believe he will get wrinkles.

"Immortal." I say, "Were the Norse gods immortal? I could go for that."

Michael is chuckling at my farfetched half Bãngh or maybe just half Norse god theory.

Spud says, "Okay, back to brass tacks here, we still want the buffalo, what now?"

"Do you have a suggestion?" I ask, knowing Spud.

"I think that together they will tell us more, and sooner," he says. "I figger they'll each fight to be the first to show off their knowledge. But first, before the sun goes down, we best do a security check. Just in case that bunch has more friends about."

"What the hell." I shrug and add, "Why not?"

Wolf stands and stretches. He says, "Wolf go scout. Spud right, could be more enemy about. White man not to be trusted."

I look around the room and say, "Sir Jacob and Michael, and at least half of you, Wolf and me and Spud. White. Can't be trusted."

"I feel left out," says Buzz.

"Buzz honorary Injin," says Wolf. "Trustworthy."

He grins, nods and leaves.

Buzz looks quite pleased.

"Too large of a crowd for Wolf," says Sir Jacob to Buzz.

"Yep. He gets antsy indoors," agrees Spud. "I better go help him."

"Wolf ain't the only one who gets antsy," I say, after Spud walks out. "Scoutin'. It's Wolf's fervent wish come true. All Injin, all the time."

"Rather," says Buzz, beaming at apparently having gained Wolf's acceptance.

Sir Jacob grins, also. Then he stands and says, "I am headed down to peruse the Ugh. Anyone else have knowledge, or care to have a look? It will give our patients time to recuperate from their newest traumas."

Buzz stands up, saying. "Indeed. I would enjoy a gander."

They head across the room.

Sir Jacob is saying, "Good gad, are Bãngh actually biologically immortal, Buzz?"

As they walk through the arched doorway, I can hear Buzz saying, "I never imagined humans weren't like us. And, yes, proprieties aside, I had noticed your hair and skin. Sorry."

"Annie," says Michael, shaking his head at the craziness of life, "let's make the patients some food. You can help me carry trays down to them. They need to eat. If they are still sleeping, we can leave the food there for them."

Later, as Michael and I near the clinic with our delicious offerings of goat cheese burgers and fries, we can hear the two talking.

"Do you think that Buzz is the guy we are looking for?" asks Crystal. "He does bear a resemblance to you."

"I don't know, my head hurts too much to care," says Mitch.

We head into the room.

"Here, asshole, food. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, thank you, I am starved," says Mitch.

Michael says, "If you cooperate, I will give you a pill to stop the pain."

"Okay, okay. Bloody hell. That bleeding Soames bastard shot me in the frickin head."

"And, he hit me over the head. Doesn't make any damn sense. He hired us," says Crystal. "Why would he hurt us?"

"One. Yore a bitch," I say. "Hell, I'd hurt ya fer that alone."

Crystal ignores this. "We needed the money. It was a packet of money. Shit, with Soames dead, I suppose there will be no piasters, eh?"

"No fuckin' piasters," I say and grin.

I hear a noise and turn around. Honorary Injin Buzz, true to form, has snuck up again and is standing in the doorway looking befuddled.

"I am perplexed. I've no idea why the man would hire someone to impersonate me."

I look back at Mitch and ask, "Can you explain what Soames hired you to do?"

Crystal looks stubborn. Mitch looks at her and says, "Bastard's dead now. We have got nothing to lose."

Crystal thinks on it, then shrugs and nods.

Mitch says, "You are correct. Before we left Pi Crystal bleached my hair and cut it to match a picture Jonny showed us. He had me dress like it, too. Then when we arrived here on the Rock, Soames sent me to that crystal cave to get the buffalo carving. I tied my horse out a ways, in the trees and walked in. There were two carvings there. They were so large that I could only carry one at a time. So I got the one. Then I ran into that crazy girl. She wouldn't answer my questions, wouldn't talk at all. She made it clear that she wanted the buffalo. I wouldn't give it to her. She tried to pull it out of my arms. I held tight.

"She went bonkers when she realized I was stronger and bit the bloody hell out of me. I tried to stop her but she kept struggling. Finally, I got her sorta subdued. I put the carving down, got hold of her wrists and tied her up. Hands and feet. That way she couldn't take the other carving before I got back to retrieve it.

She kept struggling, fought like a wildcat. Grunting and fighting the ropes. Eventually, she rolled away and fell down that little hole. That hole was deep. My arm was too short to reach her. I tried talking to her, but she was quiet. Too quiet, I mean, not even a grunt or anything. So I got the buffalo and left in a hurry. I figured I'd get back to Soames and we would return with a rope to help her. Right?

"I headed out and met Soames. He wanted me to go back for the other buffalo carving. He said to forget about the girl. That was not right in my book. Good gods, she needed help, if she was alive. I told him that I needed rope to tie the second buffalo to the pack frame, but actually I was thinking of rescuing that girl. I could lower myself down and get her out if she didn't try to bite again. He finally did give me a rope, ostensibly for lashing the buffalo.

"I hiked back to the area. But when I got close to the cave, I heard a whoop. I realized I wasn't alone, so I climbed a hill to spy and saw that you had already saved her. I waited until you left and went in for the other carving, but it was gone.

Afterward, I met up with Crystal and we tried to get back to Soames, but the river was deeper than we ever thought it would be. We tried to ride across. I was sure thet all was lost when the current swept us off the horses and into all those logs. I grabbed one and held on for dear life, but I got so cold and tired, I couldn't move. I couldn't see Crystal. I yelled and yelled. I got so cold in the end that, I just held on tight. It was all I could do. The log spun on downstream and eventually lodged against some trees. I climbed onto them and on into shore. I started looking for Crystal, but my ankle hurt. Then, I found that horse and rode him up and down searching for Crystal."

"Okay," I say.

Mitch continues, "When I found Crystal the next day, we argued about Soames. He didn't seem so great anymore to me, but Crystal was adamant that we keep working long enough to get the packet of money. Blimey, we are both lucky to be alive. Jonny was murderous."

"And the buffalo?" I ask. "Do you know where it is?"

"Possibly," says Mitch. "I gave it to Soames. It could be stashed in that old cabin where they were staying. If I find it for you, will you let us live?"

Michael, Buzz and I exchange startled glances. We had been bluffing.

"I expect we shall," says Buzz dryly.

We take Mitch up to the map room and he points out where Soames hideout is, just a few miles from where Wolf's spirit deer sighting took place.

As I usher him back down to our improvised holding cell, Mitch turns to me and says, "Listen, Annie, I'm really sorry about the whole bank deal. We was caught dead to rights. Crystal thought quick. She knew you and Michael had one foot off planet already, so the whole story fell together. You guys got away. Hell, I even arranged the transport to get your horses back to you. I know how you love them nags."

"I didn't know that," I say, plumb flabbergasted. "Wow. Thank you."

"You are welcome."

I guess the man ain't all bad. Couldn't have been easy or cheap to smuggle them horses out.

"Hell, it's true I left you for Crystal, and I wasn't too nice about it," he says. "But, heck, I was head over heels for her. I still worship the ground she walks on. You and me had fun, but she is the one for me. I'm sure sorry you two don't get along."

"If she wasn't such a lying, two faced bitch..." I start.

"Now, Annie calm down, she isn't anywhere near as bad as you make her out to be. She is real good to me," says Mitch.

I lock him back in the room with Crystal, musing as I walk away. Mitch is obviously blinded by love. Been there myself, with the very same Mitch, not making that mistake again. Men are for fun, not for keeps.

# 48 Blast

"On the positive side," I say. "We saved Painter's life, twice. We retrieved Shaz and Spud. We got that bastard Soames, finally, and knocked off a number of his cohorts. I'm hopin' we solved the evil Soames problem entirely."

"We also found one buffalo carving and know of another, of which we had no previous knowledge," says Buzz.

"Blast," says Sir Jacob, as he walks into the room, preoccupied. "Did Buzz tell you how he believes Soames could have found us?"

I look up from my post interrogation cookie.

"No. How?" I ask.

Buzz swallows his mouthful of cookie and says, "I believe the Ugh may have a mechanism for location. Many planets have satellites in geosynchronous orbit for navigation. But apparently the Rock does not. So, the Ugh would have to have an alternate method of determining location. We lack the data to know positively."

"I saw you pull some wires loose," I say, looking at Sir Jacob. "wouldn't that have killed it? Or, at least, turned it off?"

"Yes, but were they the only power source? I do not know," he says. "Personally, I believe that I inadvertently did kill it. I reattached the wires. It will do nothing now. Nary a whir nor a blink."

"Sound good. Wolf would have killed it right off."

We look behind us. Yep, it's Wolf. Mitch and that bitch Crystal are following him. I reach for my pistol, then realize that Spud is behind them. They have removed the cuffs from both those assholes. Shit.

The four grab cookies and pour drinks, then join us around the recently righted table.

I make a face.

"You got a plan fer these two assholes?" I ask. "I gotta couple of bullets here. Be glad to scratch their initials on them fer souvenirs.

Crystal inhales a bucket of air, ready to verbally blast me.

"Now just settle down you two," says Spud looking back and forth at both of us.

"Sorry," says Crystal. "I know I promised not to call her a cunt again."

"Bitch," I say.

Spud looks daggers at me, "We had a long powwow. I plan to let 'em out on their own recognizance."

I jump up ready to fight, "What?"

"Now, easy, darlin'," says Spud, holding his hands out in a calming gesture. "Settle down and listen a second."

I sit down, grudgingly.

Spud continues, "Normally, I'd ship them off planet, but we gotta be sure that Mitch's info on the location of the second buffalo carvin' is good. We can't get out there now. Have you looked outside? There's a blizzard movin' in. We need a long break in the weather before we will be able to get over the pass to look for that'n. Likely won't happen 'til spring."

"But..." I say.

"Bear with me, gal," Spud continues. "We got to think about them foolish Newzona pilgrims. They oughtn't set out on their little adventure before spring. Winter is no time fer fools to travel."

"So, tell you what. I am thinkin'. We can kill two birds with one stone here. I am goin' to take Crystal and Mitch into town. They can spend the nights in jail. That way Tindall can keep an eye on 'em. Evenin's are the prime time fer them to get in trouble. Also, them pilgrims are antsy. If they head out alone and unprepared this time of year, they are likey to end up dead.

"I'll to put Mitch and Crystal on work release, Tindall can take 'em out at first. They'll go for the daylight hours only out to the pilgrim camp and get them city folks fitted out for the winter. After that, they can start training them pilgrims to handle livestock and all the other stuff they need to learn for their journey come spring. That will keep the pilgrims busy so they don't get antsy.

"Good gawds, I hope you know what yore doin'," I say, mock shuddering.

"Work is good for the troubled soul. And these two surely need to think about joining the straight and narrow," says Spud.

I look at Wolf. He is nodding in agreement.

I throw my hands in the air.

Spud nods at my acquiescence and says, "Seems like we oughta be able to get back to ranchin' after that."

"Spirit deer waiting."

"Wolf," I say, giving him the evil eye. "We found a spirit bird, a spirit girl, a spirit buffalo and a spirit buffalo cave. Also, a carving of a spirit buffalo. We got the guy here, Mitch, who has a lead to finding the other spirit buffalo carvin'. You also saw the spirit deer. True, I didn't, but winter is roarin' in now. And I, for one, am plumb tuckered. Can we take some time off from spirit questin'?"

"I agree with Annie," says Spud. "We need to get them pilgrim friends of Zeb and Trixie's on track. If Mitch and Crystal work hard, they can get them sorted out. I did say I'd help them pioneers find their Shangri La come spring. We have agreed to get all the maps and papers together and consult."

Sir Jacob nods and says, "A recuperative period does seem advisable."

Buzz nods in agreement, even the immortal alien looks slightly bushed.

Michael has his head down on the table, fast asleep.

"What say, Wolf?" I ask.

Wolf picks up another cookie. He turns, looks me in the eye and says, "Mm."

Then he stands up and walks out.

Is 'Mm' a yes or a no? Damned if I know.

# Cowboy Dictionary

Some unconventional spelling is used in this book to impart an authentic cowboy feel to the narrative. The author rode with various cowhands, prospectors and other bush folk who spoke as Annie, Spud, Wolf, Mose, Sir Jacob and the other characters do. Wolf's Injin speak is his own.

Cowboys are fond of colorful and obscure language. It is a source of humor and a sign of their unique culture. Their stories are passed back and forth, repeated over and over during the long hours on the trail and around the campfire. Accents are accentuated, especially in front of dudes and tales get taller with the telling. Jokes and pranks are another form of entertainment, often pulled on unwitting comrades. All in good fun.

Here is a guide to the more unusual vernacular terms:

About: as in 'I don't know what he is about', what he is doing or thinking.

Acrost: across.

Agin: again.

Ah: I, myself.

Aholt: hold, as in 'grab aholt of that shovel.'

An': and

Anothah: another.

Ariding: riding

Ahorseback: on horseback.

Askcents: accents.

Atcha: at you.

Atween: between.

Aught: 0, or double aught: 00 horseshoe sizes, more aughts is smaller.

Awl: all.

Bannock: an unleavened flat bread quick to cook and popular on the trail.

Boys: Cowboys generally refer to each other as boys, less often as men. Shorthand for cowboy.

Cleah: clear.

Conversatin': conversing.

Crick: crick.

Dasn't: dare not.

Dayum: damn.

Den: then.

Dese: these.

Dint: didn't.

Disremember: forget.

Doan: don't.

'Em: them.

Ever'one: everyone.

Ever'thing: everything.

Fav'rite: favorite.

Four-in-hand: A team of four horses, rigged so they can be handled by one driver, pulling a carriage or wagon.

Gawds: gods.

Gelding: a neutered male horse.

Git: get.

Green, green broke: a horse that has only had a rider on his back a few times.

Gut: intestines, cleaned and dried, they are tightly sewn together with tiny stitches to make waterproof rain gear and dry bags.

Hand: a unit of measure for horses, originally the width of your hand, now standardized at 4 inches. Rather than 15 hands 2 inches, we would say 'fifteen two'. A horse who is 15h 2" is 62" tall at the withers.

Heah: here.

He'p, he'ped: help, helped.

Hisself: himself.

If'n: if.

...in': any verb ending in 'ing' is generally pronounced with a silent 'g'. As in, 'I was pointin' my gun at the varmint'.

I'se: I was, I is or I am.

Jes': just

Jillion: Not a number, it means too many to count.

Kin: can, also relatives.

Kinda: kind of.

Long pig: human meat.

Mañany: mañana, tomorrow.

Marching soldiers: the classic regimented clouds that pass many hours in advance of a front.

'Member: remember.

More'n: more than.

Myse'f: myself.

Nary: not any.

Naught: none, zero

Nevah: never.

O': of, pronounced like a short 'a'.

Off side: the right side of a horse when facing forward.

Ol': old.

On side: the left side of a horse when facing forward. The side people commonly mount from. If not trained to it, mounting a horse from the off side could cause a wreck.

Outfit: ranch.

Pannier: pronounced 'panyard'. From the French, A bag or box hung on each side of a packsaddle to carry cargo.

Pemmican: a mixture of dried meat and wild berries, pounded into a powder and mixed with lard. Stays good for months or years. An old time emergency ration.

Philosophizers: philosophers.

Port: left side of any craft when facing forward, commonly boats, airplanes, spacecraft.

Possibles: food and gear, whatever a person who only goes to town once a year may possibly need to survive until the next trip into civilization.

Powah: power.

Poor, poorly: underfed, ill or out of shape.

Purt: pretty

Pronghorn: Called antelope locally in the West, but actually their own unique species, true antelope are African. A case of convergent evolution. When spooked the white fur on their butt goes erect and flashes in the sun. Very curious, they can be hunted by waving flags to attract them.

Pupus: Hawaiian for hors d'oeuvres.

Querido: dear.

Reg'lar: regular.

Remuda: the remuda consists of spare horses. All horses need days off for rest and recuperations. Extra mounts are kept around in case of injury to the working horses.

Rideabout: like a walkabout, but on horseback.

Ruint: ruined.

Sawbuck: a wooden packsaddle, for carrying cargo. The shape resembles a true sawbuck, a jig used for cutting firewood to length.

Seguro que sí: for sure, certainly.

Sho' nuff: sure enough.

Shore: sure.

Sitiation: situation.

Skookum: excellent.

SOB: a small of the back holster. Used for concealed carry.

'Some: short for awesome. Popular with mountain men; as in "He were 'some b'ar killer."

Sound: healthy, not lame.

Starboard: right side of any craft when facing forward

Steganography: a hidden message, employing methods such as invisible ink.

Swim or tread water: Move or stay still.

Ta: to.

Tawlk: talk.

Tetch(y): touch(y).

That'n: that one.

Theah: there.

Travois: an American Indian sledge. The plural is also travois.

'Twere: It was.

Victuals: food, pronounced 'vittles'.

We'awl: we all or we.

Wit': with.

Withers: The hump in the spine at the base of an animal's neck just above the shoulder blades. The standardized place used to measure the height of many four-footed species, including dogs, horses, cattle and goats.

Yassuh: yes sir.

Y'all: you all.

Y'awl(s): you all, singular and plural.

Yes'm: yes ma'am.

Yesse'f: yourself.

Yore: you're or your.

Yowza: yes sir.

# Get on that Pony & Ride!

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https://www.createspace.com/4996195

 On the Rocks (Spirit Animal Book 1):

<https://www.createspace.com/4731470>

On the Rocks Large Print:

https://www.createspace.com/4926135

Boxed Sets

Cowgirls Thrillers (Spirit Animal Books 1 & 2) <https://www.createspace.com/5483068>

Cowgirl Adventures (Spirit Animal Books 2 & 3) https://www.createspace.com/5490814

# Thanks for reading!

If you enjoyed this book or found it useful I'd be very grateful if you'd post a short review on Amazon. Your support really does make a difference and I read all the reviews personally so I can get your feedback and make this book even better.

Thanks again for your support! Barb

# About the Author

Rustic western visionary Barbara Neville is a rancher, homesteader, cowgirl, artist and mother of two kick ass children. She lives at the arse end of nowhere with her horses, cattle, goats, chickens, guineas and Great Pyrenees livestock guardian dogs.

Cowgirls Rock is her third book.

Author Photo by Nancy Neville Cordell

Visit Barb's authors pages at:

http://barbaraneville.weebly.com/

https://www.facebook.com/BarbaraNeville.Author

 https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8076434.Barbara_Neville

Annie has her own 'fictional character' Facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/AnnieTalksToHorses

