Page 137 of Cowboy Daddies

An hour later, there was still no sign of the cows and dusk had long since faded. I paused on a slight rise to dig in my saddle bag for the flashlight. Flicking it on, I was rewarded with nothing but a clicking sound followed by a rumble of thunder—a rumble much closer than the last time I’d heard it. Looking up, I saw the sky seemed to have dropped lower, clouds thickening to assure that the stars wouldn’t be out to shed some light on the search.

This day just kept getting better and better. Dead batteries and clouds so swollen that if I poked my finger into one, I was pretty sure it would pop like a sausage casing on the grill. My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a crack. The possibility of it being lightning was quickly nixed when another crack immediately followed. I listened, hoping for a third, but when none came, I sighed. My brother had found two of the missing trio, but I had no idea which two.

I’d really rather not continue the search in the dark, much less if the skies opened, but cows weren’t the most intelligent animals on earth. Add in the fact that one was hugely pregnant and skittish as a newborn calf, and the decision was taken out of my hands.

I urged Zephyr forward again. “Sorry, boy, seems like our long day is gonna get longer.” His snort was most likely not one of gratitude, but at least he wasn’t attempting to buck me off at another clap of thunder. A man had to take what he could get.

As often the case, it wasn’t what I saw that caught my attention ten minutes later. It was a feeling that something was off. “Whoa,” I muttered softly, one hand dropping to the stock of my rifle. It was uncommon for bears to be seen down this low, but cougars were another story. I cautiously changed directions and continued, alert for the scent of a cat. Listening for a snarl was not worth the effort. By the time I heard one, the cat would likely have his teeth around my throat. The fact that Zephyr’s only reaction to the movement was to swish his tail told me he wasn’t concerned, which eased my fear somewhat.

Like anyone who’d grown up out here, I’d heard my share of stories about the history of this land and its people. Some of those had been based on actual fact but, when you were a kid, the ones that stuck out were the ones that stretched the truth to include anything from headless horsemen and ghostly spirits to giant bi-pedal hairy beasts tromping through the mountains. But I couldn’t recall a single one that had included any otherworldly being who sang, and I’d swear that’s what had my spidey senses tingling… singing. The next rumble of thunder destroyed any chance of hearing anything but the storm. When it was accompanied by the skies opening, my vision was blurred by rain pouring off the brim of my Stetson. Within seconds, I was drenched and seriously considering heading toward the house, but responsibility kept me in the saddle.

A click of my tongue against my teeth had Zephyr moving again. I didn’t rush him. Instead, we steadily walked forward until we came to the fence that marked the property line of the ranch. Well, the fence that would have been marking it if not for the gaping hole I was currently staring at. Boulders weren’t the only things uprooted by rain. Trees fell and this one had chosen to fall onto the fence, flattening it and most likely providing the escape route for a wandering cow.

I made a mental note of the damage even as I drew Zephyr to a stop and dismounted. Losing a cow and, god forbid, her calf, would be bad enough and I wasn’t about to add Zephyr to the list. Until I knew where the barbed wire had landed, there was no way I was going to jeopardize his legs.

Choosing a fence post a good distance from the damage, I looped the reins loosely over it. It was a risk with the storm, but one I was willing to take. If lightning spooked Zephyr. he could yank free and head for the barn. In that case, he’d be safe, while I’d be facing a very long walk home unless Luther came looking for me. Of course, that might require a bit of luck as I’d wandered off the path I’d told Luther I’d follow. In fact, I was now miles away from Old Hairy.

The name didn’t refer to a ranch hand or even a man at all for that matter. It was a set of deep depressions in a rock that Luther and I’d discovered on a campout years ago. We’d made a joke about how it looked like a footprint pressed into its surface. It wouldn’t be worthy of a name at all if not for the fact that the print was almost two feet long and a foot wide. Neither of us had been willing to state that it had been left by Sasquatch, but whatever had once stood there sure had one hell of a big foot.

“Quicker you find her, the faster you’ll get dry,” I told myself as I pulled the rifle from its scabbard and stepped carefully through the opening. The toe of my boot caught on a loop of wire and I was very glad I’d left Zephyr behind. It took another few minutes to push through the limbs of the fallen tree. I stopped to listen every couple dozen steps. The rain was still falling but I concentrated on picking out anything other than the sound of its splatter against leaves and earth.

With a start, I turned toward a sound that definitely wasn’t being sung. It wasn’t a gentle lowing either. I’d recognize that bellow anywhere. It was one that indicated distress. Direction decided, I quickened my pace, praying I’d not be too late. The last thing I needed was to discover the momma lying in some gulch with a broken leg or worse after she’d tripped over some log or rock. This land had been vacant for years and even back when it had been occupied I didn’t recall it being cultivated this far up. It would be difficult enough to traverse in the daylight. In the dark during a downpour, it was just plain dangerous.

Then who is moving around?

That thought had me pausing mid-step. Since when had a missing cow become a who? A who was a person. A cow was an animal.

Really? Wow, thanks for clearing that up.

I shook my head. I’d been up since before dawn—make that yesterday’s dawn—and was tired and hungry and wet. Throw in the fact I’d just been thinking about Old Hairy and it was no wonder I was hearing things.

And talking to yourself.

I draped the sling of the rifle over my shoulder to carefully traverse yet another log, this one spanning a slight depression. Though not a long distance, the fallen tree was slick enough to have me planting my boots solidly and crossing about as fast as a snail would if going full speed. I was no longer concerned about cougars. The cats were probably snug and dry in some damn den laughing their feline asses off while cows and men tromped around the woods like the lesser species we were.

“Where the hell are you, girl?” I called out.

The tremendous boom that shook the ground had me ducking while a spear of lightning pierced the air far too close for comfort. The intense flash of light seared my retinas and illuminated a sight which had everything I’d ever believed brought into question.

Holy Hell!

Turned out those stories might not have stretched the truth all that far after all as I witnessed a white shape, mouth wide open, huge eyes rolling flying straight at me.

Chapter Two

Livvy

Today was the day I’d scheduled to assess the garden. Of course to do that, I’d first have to find it, which was proving far harder than one would believe. How did one forget such a huge place that used to have row upon row of growing veggies? Thankfully, the question became moot when I spotted the weathered walls of what had to be the shed. A shed that held garden tools, which meant the garden had to be right about…

“Ooof!” I shouted as I found myself no longer on my feet, but on my hands and knees. “Oww, that hurt!” I slowly turned to sit on my butt in order to rub my hands together to ease the pain. I was treating my knees to the same massage as I attempted to discover what had caused my fall. Turned out to be an overturned wheelbarrow, or more specifically the remains of one.

After picking myself up off the ground, I tried to turn the thing over to move it out of my way, only to learn I was very lucky just my hands and knees were aching. If I’d fallen on top of the thing instead of over it, my body would have been found with a rusted sliver of metal sticking through my ribcage.

Then again, as isolated as this place was, it was far more likely it would be my fleshless skeleton that was found some day long into the future. It would become some sort of urban legend about where the murder weapon had come from because the wooden parts of the thing were nothing but mush. Even the rubber tire was so deflated and looked so forlorn it was as if the entire wheelbarrow had given up the ghost and instead of moving dirt, was trying to become one with the earth.

Sending my thanks that I remained in one piece out into the Universe, I carefully tugged the weeds anchoring the wheelbarrow out of the ground and tossed them aside. Not exactly the gardening I’d pictured over breakfast this morning, but I’d known the place was going to take a little work.

Little? That’s like stating you’re a little fond of sweets.