The Adventures of Talis and Littlefoot: Part 2

Stranger encamped in Deep Woods

The next dawn broke with a light drizzle that slowly faded into a dull, gray morning. Wisps of cold fog blew in off the Brown River, settled around the trees and wet the grass with icy cold dew. Not wanting to run into any of Scar Man's Friends or anyone who could remember her from the Inn at the West Gate of New Town, they skirted the walls to the Southern Gate.

Stranger picked their way between peddler's carts and tented stalls, flocks of geese and pens with new lambs in them as they headed towards the Gate sentries. The two armored guards had the bored look of long time, nothing to do on them, but they did glance over her scarlet red hair, fair skin and full bosom with a spark of interest as she rode past. They also eyed Stranger's tall, muscular frame and straightened up a bit as if some bone memory reminded them that they were in the presence of one of the old war horses that could plow through an unmounted foot division and send the soldiers rolling like child's toys.

Littlefoot chattered from under her cloak.

"The thinkers don't bother me. It's the doers like we had visit us last night that get my blood up", she laughed at his opinion about the guards thoughts as she stared them down with a raised brow and sea-green eyes. It was a good thing that Littlefoot and Stranger were casual when it came to her tussles with Rowan. Those lascivious thoughts could really cause some problems if they had not accepted him!

Rowan's face with his liquid brown eyes and mane of black curls came to her with a jolt. She went all soft thinking about his powerful shoulders and strong legs.

"I miss my friends, too! I can't wait to see Firewynd and Rolf and Pudge"! Littlefoot chattered. Stranger nickered his deep horse laugh as visions of the mares of Small Wood Village ran by her mind from his inner eye.

"Gods, we're all a randy bunch! Better make for home sometime soon", Talis thought as she urged Stranger down a small and familiar back alley.

#

Vilene was standing just outside her doorway in the stone building that housed her shop and home. Her gray hair and wizened face lit up on seeing Talis and she opened up a toothless smile to welcome them. Bright blue eyes still sparkled from mountains and valleys of wrinkles.

A blond haired and well built young man appeared from inside just as Talis dismounted and went to one knee to show her respect for an Elder. Vilene touched Talis' head and Talis leaped up to engulf her in a bear hug.

"How's Vi been, Bret"? Talis signed behind Vi's back still hugging the old woman.

Bret signed back a short comment. With a soundless laugh, he put thumb and forefinger on either side of his nose, then together for an "okay" signal, chin jutted out rakishly exposing the thin silvery scar on his throat ear to ear. Talis released Vilene, laughed and grabbed Bret in his turn.

"What's he say about me behind my back, Talis? He's always being fresh with me, you know", Vi said with a curled lip.

"He said, 'You fart big and snore loudly' "! Talis answered.

Vilene pretended to be angry and embarrassed thwacking Bret on the head and shoulder with a bunch of dried herbs, which scattered into the air leaving behind a sweet and pungent odor. Bret fended her off with outstretched arms and a soundless laugh, planting a cheeky kiss on her old forehead in reply.

"For one with no voice, you certainly manage to be mouthy! Go see to those teas we're to deliver to the Old Lord's kitchen for his gout this afternoon or I'll disown you"!

Bret turned to go inside as Littlefoot leaped from Stranger's back to his. Bret swung the ferret around and buried his face in Littlefoot's musky belly leaving his grandmother and Talis to parley.

Vilene gratefully took the big packet of meteless Talis pulled from her saddlebag. "This root is getting harder to come by each year", Vi said appreciatively as she sniffed the dank and sandy purple roots and fingered the tiny hairs on their sides. The roots squirmed a bit from the tickling and satisfied of their freshness, Vi gently tucked them into a muslin bag that appeared from the folds of her voluminous blue apron.


"I've asked you two to move back to Small Wood where there's plenty of fresh herbs! You know that you have Her permission to search even as far as the Cairn for your needs! I'm sure She'd let Bret help you! This place grows more intolerant and dangerous every day! Your old house has been kept up since you've been here. Just give the word and I'll send Click and Rowan to pack for you, root and knob".

"I'm not ready to go back to the woods just yet, young missy! There's still plenty of business and money for and old herb woman, even if I do get Punts passing by and preaching at me. For all their talk of heresy, they're more than happy to pilfer my unguents and medicines in Shon-ar's name. Especially the virility root". Vi took the packets of greens and teas from Bret as he returned outside, Littlefoot draped around his neck like a fur scarf.

"Besides. You know that there's other work here to do", she shot Talis a sidelong glance. Talis pursed her lips, sighed and nodded her acquiescence.

The second packet Talis removed held a huge black wool shawl with an intricate woven border for Vilene and a small sheathed knife for Bret. Click had made the leaf-shaped blade for him and Talis had stitched together the leather sheaf, molding it in hot water to snugly fit the outline of the knife. Knife in hand and an enthusiastic kiss for Talis, Bret went around back with Little foot to practice his knife throwing.



"Remember to balance the haft in your hand before you throw. Think of your target, see the blade go there and throw! Smoothly" ! Talis' voice followed him. She turned to Vilene and followed her inside the shop.

"I've a list of needs from you, now. Let's have some of that warming salve, a large packet of smoke-herb, rust leaf, and the medicines on this list to start. Some dried apples and pears would be welcome for us and just a few raisins for Littlefoot if you have them.

' And if you happen to have a suitable rabbit as friend for Colt..." Talis trailed off. Vilene would know that Colt would never be capable of the familiar bond almost all of her kind were capable of. That didn't stop the youngster from wanting to have a 'pet' at his side like the other young ones in the Village.

Looking around at hanging bunches of herbs, pots and jars of liquids and potions, books and bones and parchments, the smell in the shop was a blend of astringent and floral with something else just below the surface - not unpleasant, but not to be messed with by the uninitiated. Talis fingered one of her silver traced amulets clamped tight to her hair just above her temple.

"I have just the one", Vi said as she disappeared into a back room returning a moment later with a black and white rabbit. She handed the soft creature to Talis to hold as the old woman set about filling the rest of Talis' order.

"Food"? "No Friend"...

"Food"? Littlefoot asked hopefully from Bret's shoulder in the doorway, naturally nosey to see what she was getting.

"Friend", Talis answered, amused at his obvious disappointment. "For Colt".

(Note: The Misty Morning is by Cdemo on Flicker. Littlefoot above is from the National Park Services site. The herbs are from one of my beautiful herb books. The gorgeous leaf shaped blade was channeled up by and can be bought for a pittance of it's worth from the forges of Valhalla Arms.)

The Adventures of Talis and Littlefoot: Part 1

Talis couldn't tell if the two big commoners at the end of the table were interested or simply angered that she'd chosen to sit at their table. Despite all the empty seats at this board, the rest of the place was overflowing with stools and chairs pulled around tables scattered pellmell around the common room of the New Town Inn.

Frankly, she didn't give a damn. This table was closest to the fire. It was the only empty seat to be had. They had ridden long hours today and she was tired, hungry and in a pissy mood. Even though the two occupants extended large booted feet to impede, and the larger pockmarked one with bad teeth made rude comments as she passed him, she moved towards the seat. A well placed kick with the hard toe of her long leather boot mid stride and he pulled back a bruised limb in surprise.

At her signal the barmaid brought her a mug of mulled wine and with it a bowl of whatever was stewed that day. There was also a rough loaf of bread with a reasonable aroma and a good crust. The slight girl also added an extra large paddle of churned yellow butter from the sideboard and smiled at Talis. Talis' glance caught the gleam of a steel source bead that escaped from the girl's rough shirt.

For the girl's generosity, Talis slipped one small copper coin into her thin hand with a sideways glance at the fat keep eying her from the bar.

“When you tire of this, make your way to the old herbalist on Shanty Street.” The girl's eyes opened wide at this, but she quickly hid her astonishment and feigned a reasonably blank look.

Talis made a show of paying for her meal sensing that the serving girl would be more likely to own the penny if the keep thought that the brass coin she held up now to the girl was all that was tendered. She was repaid with a grateful, fleeting smile.

The two hooligans couldn't hide their interest in the deerskin pouch at her waist after the farce. It couldn't be helped. From the looks of it, the girl needed every penny to buy shoes and a decent stole to replace the threadbare one wrapped around her scrawny shoulders.

She slurped noisily as she tested the soup and decided to sip her wine instead. Let the chill in the air that even the big fire crackling in the hearth failed to fully subdue make it easier to gulp down. She was in a hurry to be out of New Town and everything annoyed her at this point.

One of the sluggards at the end of her table made a stab at flirting with a horribly crude remark directed at her chest. Talis leaned forward and stared stonily at the fire in reply.

“Unfriendly wench, aye” the smaller one of the two with the scar of a big gash across his cheek pushed back his stool and loomed towards her, meaty paws splayed out on the table. With a snick of metal singing against leather and lightning fast reflexes, she had unsheathed two short knives from above her boot with her right hand, sent them spinning in the air to land with a hissing thunk between the second and third fingers of his left hand.

The third knife she unleashed from her bodice with her left hand carved off a neat slice of the bread loaf. Talis stuck the chunk of bread between her teeth and chewed. She growled, stood up and retrieved the two blades from the now seated and red-faced scar man and went back to entertaining her meal. Things settled down. She threw her cloak over her shoulders and went back to entertaining her meal ignoring the two muttering dolts who left soon after.

***

Stranger nickered softly when he saw her and danced a bit, his breath fogging in the night chill settling in. She put her forehead on the massive neck, rubbed his shoulders and flipped the stirrup onto the saddle to check the girth cinch.

“Littlefoot, where are you”? She kept her voice low. New Town may be a center of commerce, but folks here were still a suspicious and zealous bunch. They were antsy around her kind. A lump under her saddle roll began to stretch and search. A small, silver gray furry head with two shining eyes black as coals greeted her from beneath blanket folds, Tiny, sharp white teeth chattered in a heartfelt scold.

“I've been cold out here! And hungry! And I sensed danger for you and couldn't be there to help”! Littlefoot gave her a ferret's rendition of a petulant cold shoulder. She grinned in his direction.

“This should mollify you, bottomless gut”, Talis tossed him a chunk of meat fished out of her stew and some bread with gobs of butter attached to it. His pouting suddenly shifted to keen interest. With a quick thought for him to hide, she turned her attention to Stranger who sent her pictures of grain and water. She palmed a wrinkled little apple that she'd purloined from a table she passed on the way out with the occupants none the wiser.

“You're next. Let's get around to the stables to see what fare and accommodations they can offer you”, she said as she stepped in the stirrup and threw her leg over the busily moving lump with Littlefoot contentedly consuming his dinner at the center of it.

The stable boy gawked at Stranger. It wasn't often that New Town got riders on horses of the old line the size of the stallion – or red haired women with big swords riding them. The horse was such a dark brown he appeared almost black even in bright sun, and this late afternoon saw not much in the way of light. Long feathered fringes covered his lower legs over the hooves and his mane and tail were thick and waved.

The boy, used to the stubby ponies of the Punts and Newlanders, brought around a skimpy wooden bucket of grain. He sidled up to Talis as if fearful to get too near the big horse or her. Talis looked in the bucket and sighed.

“Where's the grain bin, boy”? She followed his wavering finger and filled the bucket more to Stranger's size and liking.

“And find me some black syrup for sweetening”. The boy lumbered off slack jawed and scuffing feet to do as she bid. Stranger rolled back his lips to grin his approval at her and she tussled his forelock.

“If we don't find work soon, you two will eat me out of house and home”.

Where would they find work? There hadn't been a skirmish or a clash among The Families and The Highborn in the five villages for moons. And no fanatical Punts had run off with a butter maid or her cow for 'tithes', either. The skinny wages she made as bodyguard for some snotty Highborn lords and their ladies attending a harvest fair last moon were dwindling fast in her pouch. Even if they sold the fancy gold earrings Littlefoot pinched from a particularly spiteful wealth bred daughter in another party wouldn't keep them all in the larder for much more than another half moon.

With thoughts of feeding her traveling household wearing on her, Talis wrapped up in her cloak and blanket in the stall Stranger was housed in. She'd thrown a second blanket over Stranger's back and seen to it that the boy had fresh straw strewn on the floor of the paddock after he made a halfhearted attempt at mucking and laid a flake of hay for Stranger' browsing in the feed trough. She awarded him half a big copper for hay, grain and a night's service after he filled Stranger's bucket with clear water.

She knew the inn master would cheat the boy out of most of it as sure as she knew that his maid never saw a dime of her tupps. But she was feeling peevish enough at his slowness not to hand him two small half brasses so he could get his portion.

Littlefoot appeared from her saddle pack, belly bulging where he'd managed to stay hidden during the interchange with the stable lad. He tunneled under her coverings and arranged himself across her waist to take full advantage of her body heat. Lulled by Stranger's contented chewing and Littlefoot's musky smell and fleeting images of weasel dreams, she drifted off to sleep.

#

Some little night noise startled her. Stranger chuffed and Littlefoot stood up on her belly full length, eyes intense and ears pricked forward. He was still draped in her blanket and she would have laughed at the comical sight of one side of his head swathed in cloth, but her sixth sense told her that there was danger close by. She heard a cough and a curse as a heavily booted foot smacked into a feeding trough.

Rolling in a smooth motion to one knee and dislodging Littlefoot with the effort, she retrieved her sword from the saddle as quietly as she could, freed the top of the faring ties for her boot knives and crouched, allowing her eyes to accustom to the difference in the shadows around her and straining her ears to catch any sound.

Stranger instinctively tried to wedge his way in front of her dislodging his blanket with Littlefoot now clinging to his mane and forelock on a new perch, fangs ready and high pitched growl warning as he jumped back and forth in his fury dance.

“Move your big ass over so I don't nick you, Stranger”, she whispered urgently. Stranger flicked back an ear, chuckered low, and shifted his massive weight over in the tight quarters of the stall.

The crunch of boot heels on dry hay chaff and horse shit alerted them to the whereabouts of intruders just outside the door of the stall. In the ambient light from the stable door they left open, Talis outlined two men – two very big men with an air of something familiar about them. She recognized the voice of the scar man from earlier in the pub.

“High and mighty Missy don't want to consort with the likes o' us, eh? Let's make sure she remembers us tonight. I'm first! And mind them knives o' hers”.

“You shure she's a'sleeping yet?” queried Bad Teeth.

“I paid thet id'git boy a full copper to let us know when she settled in” said Scar Face.

Talis sprang up from her crouch to land briefly on the gatepost. “Well! Less' be sure ya gets yer moneys wurt, “ she mocked in a fair imitation of their backwater slang.

With that, several things happened in quick succession. Scar Man lunged in her general direction only to receive a matching scar on his other cheek from her short knife and a vicious cut to his upper right arm from her sword as she leapt down from her perch. He screamed in pain and surprise, then swung his heavier broadsword at her. Talis easily leaped the crude swipe and laughed as the weight of his own blade slung him around in almost complete circle.

“How were you going to peg me in the dark with that tiny sausage lurking in your trousers when you can't even guide that big sword in the right direction”? He grew livid with her taunt, swung back around from the force of his misdirected thrust and lunged again.

Stranger had felled the door in two swift kicks and was angling the other lout towards the wall of the stable, teeth bared, massive neck extended, ears back and screaming all the way. Littlefoot launched all two feet of himself over Stranger's head and was busily entertaining Bad Teeth's ears and cheek with his razor sharp teeth. He worried the man's back with his hind feet like he was burrow building. Bad Teeth struck wildly around him with a mallet type affair that doubled as his weapon, blows landing ineffectually in the air, and once on his own leg. He let out a howl that brought a big grin to Talis' face.

The big horse reared once, front hooves churning the air and screaming for Littlefoot to move away. Stranger cleanly landed two sharp blows to the man's face. The ruffian slumped against the wall, slithered down the length of it leaving a swath of blood and brain matter in his wake. The ferret continued to bite the man's neck after he was down. Littlefoot was deep in blood lust.

Talis landed her deathblow almost matter-of-factly after toying with Scar Man a moment more. The stable boy would have a mess to clean up tomorrow for sure. She snickered at the cuffing he was liable to get for it. He had, after all, been the lookout for this ill-fated attack and she had no doubt that the inn keep had some hand in it large or small for profit.

She cleaned her blade with a scrap of rag, made the sign and wished the two dead men swift passage to Summerland. She scooped up Littlefoot where he still gnawed away at Bad Teeth's throat. She wiped the ferret's muzzle on the man's tunic. To calm him, she had to forcefully stare into his eyes to reach him down in the black abyss while holding his wriggling body.

“I'm alright, Littlefoot. Stranger is well, Littlefoot. Come back, Little Thief”! She focused, sought him out and stayed him where he wandered in Red Land.

The ferret suddenly went limp in her arms, and she gathered him to her chest. After a moment, he wriggled free of her, and gathered himself up to leap over to the gatepost where he began grooming the blood from his coat.

Talis checked Stranger with her hands as best she could in the dim light despite his protests and the blood scent that was flaring his nostrils. She saddled him and packed them up to go.

“We'll spend the rest of the night in Deep Woods. I'll wager we'll go unmolested there”, she said as she ducked the low door of the stable from atop Stranger's back.

(NOTE: Sword above is from Dragon's Edge. Stranger's doppelganger is available from Artexpression.com. Littlefoot is from the National Park Service.)

Part 15 of Past Lives

You should be coming from Tash's part of the PLR Meme here. If you are new to the Past Lives Meme, go to Australia with Lilly's Life: Fearless and Fabulous to start at the beginning of David's journey around the planet.

Note to everyone: We were preparing for hurricane Fay to land sometime Tuesday along
Florida's West Coast. As I live in Tampa, I'm asking your forgiveness for my part of the PLR Meme being late. I had intended on this being all of a piece, one segued life into another. But our storm guest has become a not-so-fresh fish as we've battened down and stocked up, waiting to see what direction the wench will dance next. So apropos that Tash's segment is written from an island who wages battles with such intense storms during our season as well! Florida is of course, the Northernmost land of the Tropics. ~ Dina

##

We continue now with David's journey into his past, beyond his birth and back into his present life. As an Australian man in the grips of coming to terms with paralyzing phobias that have wrecked havoc in his life and relationships, David has come to see Dr. Harlowe, an expert in Past Life Regression therapy. Nothing else has helped. David is desperate to be free of these fears that have turned his life upside down, impeded his every chance at advancing, and affected every corner of his existence.

David is just coming up from his latest experience in this session with the good doctor...

“Hyarima's evil grin revealed a mouthful of sharp teeth. The sun glinting off the blood dripping down his chin. Dripping...the white milky liquid...fading... the tightening in my chest, my throat...Oh! Great Spirit! Oh Yaya, forgive me!”

A moment of rushing in my ears like the greatest storm winds blowing the ocean surrounds me. I look around at sparkling darkness and then down, confused. There am I, Chuchupe, eldest son of the feared Caribe cacique, Chief Hyarima! I see myself, the spilled manioc liquid seeping into the sand from the lip of the gourd I hold loosely in my hand. Confused, I am down there and yet here, where is here? I am in a panic! The thoughts in my head are in a strange language and yet I understand. There is nothing to make sense of...

I faintly hear Dr. Harlowe's voice as if coming from a room far away from me. Can't make sense of it. What is he saying? The tightness in my chest persists as I am inexorably drawn forward, sound and time rushing past in my ears. The roar in my head is deafening, crushing. I am now aware of slowing. The tightening in my chest is still there. I hear the rattling of each breath as my tiny chest lifts my smock fighting for air.

Mama says I was kissed by the angels in Heaven. There's a little port wine-red heart raised up slightly from the smooth white of my skin on my chest that I was born with. It's my special birthmark. My throat is on fire. I'm so sick to my stomach but there is nothing left inside to wretch.

I see mama and papa, my older brothers Liam, Jedidiah and Joseph, our neighbor Mrs. Spencer through fevered eyes.

“She hasn't got any strength left in her, Abigail,” says Mrs. Spencer. “The doctor still hasn't come from Salt Lake. The men said they have their hands full with the flu up there. And everyone that is standing upright is nursing the others. I don't think the turpentine rub will help at this point and she can't hold down the chamomile long enough to help the puking”. Mama curls in on herself and papa takes her into arms that are shaky and thin.

“Dear Heavenly Father, please not another one of mine! I know that this is Your will at work, but there's been Sarah and Joshua, and now my little Becky!” Mama is weakly slumped over with papa trying to hang on. Poor papa! He looks like he is ready to fall, too. Only my big brothers didn't get this awful sickness. The people in the Ward think that we all got sick because we took turns chewing Louise's cousin's gum. But when I get better, I'm going to ask papa to get me some when he goes to the Ward meeting in Salt Lake at the Temple next year anyway.

“Hugh, I don't think I can put another one of mine in the ground this week! This is my baby...”

Mama is caterwauling now! She's so loud! I hear Mrs. Spencer sniffle, too. I just want to sleep. The fever is making my skin ache and the chills shake my bed down to the woven slats. I see Liam bending over me. I'm so weak I can barely reach up my thin arms to him. I can't breathe....Liam. He picks me up and he cradles me to him.. I'm so sleepy.....So tired...

I look down to see me and Liam. That is me! I'm tiny and blond. My long sleeved smock is tangled around my thin legs and Liam is rocking me, the blanket is around my back and falling off of Liam's long legs. I like it when Liam rocks me....I'm skinny and kind of blue looking...and Liam is rocking, rocking.....

##

Rushing noise. Loud. Sensations of falling backward....

“David? David, can you hear me? I want you to go to the next death experience you remember.” Dr. Harlowe's voice is steadying. I feel myself drift forward again for just a short while. My child's body is transformed into a heavier, more solid one...I feel the weight of it through the somnolent trance Dr. Harlowe has put me in.

“What is it you see? Where are you?”

“Dang salt lick!” I'm kickin' what's left of a chewed up salt block away from where it is wedged agin' this post I'm a workin' on. Caught my fair to new buckskin gloves on that dang barb 'ight there whilst trying to move it! That'll be another stichin' chore I'll have to do.

My name's Ransom Gray Hewitt. Leastwise, that's what my maw stuck me with. She was always reading them old Godey's Ladies Books stories and got a hankering for me to have a romantic name. I shucked that name the same day as I signed on with our neighbor, Mr. Liggett's brother Jim. I was 13 and big enough to be wrangler on my first Spring drive up the to Kansas.

Soon's them men asked me what my hanger was and I tol' em, they put up such a hoot that I got pure-T aggravated with all of 'em and commenced to try to fight ever dang one of 'em. They'as bigger'n me, but I took my punches and kept after worryin' 'em all 'til they got me calmed down thowin' a bucket o'cold water on me from the trough. After that, they called me Rowdy and it stuck. No one mentions nuthin' 'bout Mr. Ransom Gray anymore. I'm Rowdy Hewitt and no different lest you want to fight.

My first drive, I looked after 'bout 50 head of hosses for them cowboys.The older fellas showed me the ropes on the trail and I got so good with them hosses that I started rowell trainin' them to cut. Every trail hand has a bunch of hosses. They's night hosses that are good to see them cattle in the dark and take off after'n stray. Then they's big, heavy chested water hosses that can bust through water and keep the calves from floating off downstream. You got your roping hosses that are part stubborn jackass who know when to haul back on a rope wrapped around the pommel on one end and a cow at t'other one. You also got you a few of them trail hosses who will put in up to 18 or so mile a day, all day long, one leg after another, carryin' rider and his tack, too. That's the mustang in 'em. ' Course I think them cutters are the most important because they know how to cull out the herd, heifers from steers and calves from their mams.

Ole Hamp the cook said that there ort'ento be a dressin' up pretty horse for the end o' the ride when we get our pay and clean up to go see the ladies. He used to wink when he said it. Took me a year or two afore I knowed what his meaning and that wink was hintin' to.

I earnt enough that first Spring to buy myself a good used Colt .44 single action. It was a cavalry gun and a little banged up on the grips, but it shot true and cleaned up nice. Hamp helped me soak leather to make me a decent holster for it and a matchin' one for my Browning rifle and I've had both to this day. I keep an old Lyman mold, primers and some reloading tamps back at the soddy we use for a bunk house to keep my bullets up to stock. I went off to work fer other ranches over the years but always ended up back here at the Double LL.

There. One more post straight and the wire hammered back into place. I'm glad Mr. Jim stuck by Glidden's wire 'stead o' some of the more nasty stuff I've worked with. Two barb is enough! All's you need is a poke to keep them old heifers from pushin' through. Some o' them fancier barbs come unwound at the slightest breeze and just hang there like an ole cow tit.

This ain't been the best o' my days. Mr. Liggett got me up afore sunup to go put back up fencin' down close to the river. Vaqueros from over the border brung up a herd o' Spanish cattle and drove 'em right across the edge o' Mr. Jim's ranch. Went through fence and all just a leavin' it lay where they pulled the posts down. Mr. Jim's worried they might a made their herd a little bigger with some of his strays ridin' through. Won't matter once they get 'em to the stockyards with the Double LL brand on their backsides.

He'll have a couple of the boys ride on up ahead and catch up with them vaqueros see what they got minglin' in with theirs once we head out o' Big Springs.

We're headin' out with our herds for the Spring drive o' '89 this Thursday come sunup. I'll have my 24^th birthday out on the trail. Ole Hamp will have some concoction fer me. Last year he baked a dang number two horseshoe in a cornbread cake. Said the shape reminded him o' the shape o' my legs with the air whistlin' betwixt 'em. I thanked him and allowed as how his ole ass wouldn't be so flat if he'd get down off'n that buckboard and aback a hoss once in a while. He just grinned at me with what few teeth he had left.

I like my life just fine. I get steady pay and three square's a day. Mr. Jim's wife Ethyl is a dang fine cook, too. Makes the best biscuits and cornbread just like it wuz cake in them big ole iron skillets of hers. She serves up some pie ever now and agin when me or one o' the boys brings her some apple or berries back from movin' cattle.

Hamp's a good cookie, too, although a bit rougher on the dough. He babies that old sourdough starter of his like it was gold. Claims it's as old as he is! But he cuts the rashers of bacon thick and cooks a bean pot with a red Mexican chili pepper so's if you find too much of it in your plate, you're off visitin' the bush right reglar' and you don't dare fart fer startin' a prairie grass fire. A trek through the Red River a day after Hamp's beans is a blessin', if you take my meanin'.

There's the ride up part of the Chisolm Trail with some real purty country along the way. I seen a spot next to a crick that fed into the Red River where I could picture my own little spread. 'Course, it would help if I was to have a missus. Ain't really nobody much to think on here outside Big Springs. I met a gal when I was up in Abilene once. She worked the counter at the dry goods and mercantile there where Mr. Jim picked up some calico for Miz Ethyl. I took my hat off, she smiled, I smiled back. She asked could she help me. I got plumb tongue tied and pointed to Mr. Jim. She smiled agin' and went over to Mr. Jim where he stood gawkin' at the cloth goods. Don't reckon she'd remember me from that far back.

Only other gals I know work at the saloon over in Big Springs. I don't reckon' they'd want to be givin' up the high life and them fancy clothes for the hard life o' ranchin' wife. I've visited a painted lady or two in my time. But they ain't the kind to trust out in the middle o' nowhere. Like to have vamoosed at the drop of a hat.

I'm almost done here. Got one more post to take it down to the crick...What the hell is that yonder?

I see part of a curly hide pokin' up amongst all them weeds right there at the bank of the crick. Looks like them Vaqueros might'a left something o'theirs behind besides all this downed fence...Let me just walk over here and see..

Aw, dang! It's a lil'ole hoss colt! Now, I'm right fond of a hoss and it's a shame to see one down and left on the side o' the trail. Lil' ole feller. Let me see if I can drag him up dry a little more. Can't leave him to fester in the water and take a chance the cattle will drink after him.

I'm just got a holt o' him when I'm hearing these wasps a buzzing together...big ole nest of 'em if you ask me! They sometimes likes to cuddle up to some dead thing out here. I don't see none o' them a flyin' but that might mean they're under the dirt some'ers.

Ow! Damn! It's hotter'n the top floor o' hell! Oh, damn! Somethin' has bit right through the leg o' my Levi's right above my boot and it burns like fire! And damn! There's another bite on my other leg, and one more on my left arm above my glove! I jerk my hand up from under the lil' feller and there's somethin' shiny as a penny attached to my glove a flickin' and a writhin' like a wild rope while my legs are being stung over and over agin. My mind just can't figure out what that....oh! Dear Lord in Heaven! It's a dang copperhead! I can't count how many a bitin' on me as I look around me!

Dang fool Rowdy! It's Spring and you know'd they'd be up and down this stream lookin' for a lady friend! Lordy! Must be a whole nest o' them death adders! And you just stepped in the middle of their parlor and het'em up some more. Poor lil' ole fella here just must'a stepped right in the middle o' them just like I did!

Aw, damn I'm pukin' as I jerk that one off of my glove with my right hand! My hand and legs all swoll up already! I can't get my glove off. I'm stumblin' back up to the post I just finished hammerin' on with one of them dang snakes a' hangin' off my leg. My hoss is so far away! Tied on up so I can't get him over here. I got to lie down! My Lord! The pain! Chest hurts bad. I'll just lay on down here.....

##

You'll be going to Vikki's Redchair Gallery in California for Part 16 of PLR.

(Note to readers: The brief life David lived as a tiny girl in 1870s Alpine, Utah is based on a true story. A child visiting from Salt Lake City brought a piece of chewing gum that was passed around in the small community. Unfortunately, as the children passed the gum around for their turn, they were exposed to the flu virus which the child from Salt Lake had been infected with. Many childred died from direct exposure to the gum, or to those who were infected. The Alpine cemetery can be a sad place. Situated on a hill, there are family markers with several children and parents side by side, all succumbing to the flu - some on the very same day.

Rowdy's life was one of my own PLR regressions from the 1970s. The spurs above are Kelly brand. I wore a pair just like them down to the blunt rowells for almost seven years during life on my Utah ranch.)