*Ah,* rumbled a voice from some other place.
The world hiccupped again.
-o-
Elgin woke up to the sound of wind whipping around the old Air-Stream’s hull. Rattling the plates on the kitchen shelf, sending a faint gust of cooler air puffing from some surface or another. The thin insulation of the old aluminum shelled RV was hardly worth the name. But Elgin or his father had sealed it up fairly well over the years, and neither worried about keeping it particularly warm in the winter or cool in the summer.
Suddenly an image flashed, of Humph laying there almost dead, his beautiful fur matted by his own blood. Elgin rolled to upright his feet hitting the cold floor with a thump; which made Humph emit a grumpy “Wrowwr,” from his bed on top of the bookcase by the door.
The bookcase was only a step away from the bed, in the big wooden crate turned cat bed Humph lay stretched out, paws hanging over the side, looking like they were casually crossed, his prehensile tale draped down the side of the bookcase almost to the floor, its red brown tip twitching from some giant Siamese cat dream. There was no blood, no terrible wound, no bullet wounds. He looked like he always did after a successful night doing whatever it was he did in the night.
Elgin reached out and stroked the smooth warm fur, Humph, opened one blue orb and gave the cowboy a once over before letting the lid droop and beginning to purr, a bit like a medium truck diesel idling. “Damn it you big fool, I thought I was going to have to kill you!” Elgin whispered. Humph, ‘Humfed’, at that, stretched a little letting his huge claws unsheathe for a moment, but kept purring.
Closing his eyes just made the world go dark, no beaky nosed man, not knowing what else to do Elgin sighed and spoke into the room in general, “Thank you old man, thanks for saving Humph.”
Now it was time to check his supplies and figure out what to do next. A quick check showed that, as usual, they were only a couple of days from starvation if you only counted civilized food. Of course both of them were hunters and Elgin was a good gatherer and scrounger as well. He started some quick rice with powdered milk and eggs to make a reinforced custard. Then he found some dry cat food and scrap meats and meat stock to make up a good bowl of Humph chow.
As Elgin set the big bowl down there was a thud, Humph announcing his arrival since he could come off his bed as silently as a feather if he wanted to. The big head with its red-brown mask brushed Elgin’s hand aside as he pushed his muzzle into the food and started to eat hungrily, “You’re welcome, greedy guts.” Elgin said with a smile and a stroke of the long tawny back. Humph lifted his head for a, “RrrUuurR,” of friendly agreement then went back to feeding.
Elgin drank a pot of coffee, ate his custard and thought about the future, he had a sum total of fifty six dollars and seventy six cents in his bank account. The Air-Stream was his and he had a twenty year old Chevy pickup to haul it, but it wasn’t really legal since he didn’t have it insured except when he was redoing the tags. He had no health insurance, no retirement account, nothing except what he could reach out and touch.
He finished the coffee and cleaned up, listing things that he needed to do and to buy as he did. It was a daunting list, but then he had all the time in the world, the only demand on his time was at the CircledSBarS ranch and during the winter when the herd was in the home pastures he only ‘worked’ two days a week plus any fixup work that came his way.
He turned to the tiny old TV with its stack of adapters that let it receive the four channels of broadcasting in the lake region. The storm had settled into bitter cold, wind and snow showers. Elgin went outside, cleaned the porch, then dug out his pickup and the lane to the road. Including hacking a passage through the now five foot high snow and ice berm along the road.
It was lunchtime when he went back inside and made himself another flan and put down some dry food and water for Humph, who was deep asleep and twitching with Siamese dreams, or nightmares. It was Monday afternoon, Griffith TwoShoes would be at his gas station.
-o-
Griffith TwoShoes looked like an Amerind shaman, not the razor sharp businessman he was, he liked letting others fall into traps of their own making. In his twenties and thirties he’d been an accountant and auditor for the Federal Reserve, he probably could have gone far in the federal service but he’d never been willing to use his genetic heritage as a lever, but he was a natural republican, small business sub genre, at heart.
The gas station on the north end of Beauty was his smallest business but his best loved since it had been his first investment and the basis of his little empire. Business was slow on a snowy Monday with the wind blowing the snow sideways. It gave him time to work on the books behind the counter, the last ‘inside customer’ had come in an hour ago and he’d only had two gas and goes since then. But the station had already covered expenses for today so he was happy enough.
The doorbell rattled without the car arrival buzzer going off, Griffith looked up to see Elgin Chalmers knocking the snow off his Stetson and boots. “Hey Elgin, hear you’re a hero!” he called out. The young cowboy grinned, a matter of faint crinkles around the eyes and mouth, “So I’m told, wasn’t a lot to it Griff.”
“Never is, townies make a whodoo out of not much all the time. What can I do for you today?”
Elgin had opened his buff longcoat and was holding his Stetson somewhat defensively in front of himself. “Uh, well I didn’t know if you were lookin’ for some help around here. I need something more to do than winter at the ranch, need something nearby. Thought of you and the station.”
In truth Griffith had more help than he needed, at times it seemed as if half his extended family worked for him, mostly part time. But a good half of those who did were about as reliable as the weather, and Elgin had the reputation of being very reliable once he committed to something, though he had never worked in a store or restaurant, any inside work, in his life.
Griffith pulled at his neck piece of woven porcupine quills, “You serious El?”
Elgin bobbed his head, “Yes sir.” He sound very young and uncertain, a little disconcerting coming from a man who looked like he should be commanding armies.
“Hear you’re a pretty good mechanic?” Griffith was a bit surprised at the direction of his thoughts but also felt pleased with himself.
The question made Elgin blink, shrug very slightly, “Can find my way around mostly, never had any practice with real modern chippers and the electrics though,.” He glanced around, “Thought you’d need a clerk, the Wiggins have most of the garage work and you have your cousins at the old Muffler and Shocks Shop?”
“Wiggins have it mostly ‘cause my cousin’s ain’t worth a damn and I was fool enough to sell them the business. The new TiresAndMore at Winston gap is pulling a lot of business, there are five or six shady tree mechanics doin stuff on the cheap as well. There’s work to be had, I need bodies willing to get the jobs done on time and for pennies on the dollar that the Wiggins’ charge. If you’re interested in a mix of store and garage work; say twenty hours a week to start, we can see how it works out.”
“Uh, Griff, during the warm months...”
“You’ll want to punch cows again? Why it’s a hard life, for not a lot of money.”
Elgin looked away from Griffith, towards the window and the mountains beyond, hidden by a near whiteout right this instant, “Yeah, well the open sky pulls at me, you know.”
Griffith shrugged, “Despite what I dress up as El I’m a modern man, I love my people and the land but I love a warm bed and my wife’s arms every night even better.”
The cowboy’s faint smile took a faint twist, “A terrible admission that Griff.” The smile faded to a thoughtful look, “Tell you what, I know part time part year ain’t attractive. But I don’t cowpunch full time cept a few weeks a year. I know some of the shady tree mechanic’s and I think they’d be interested in having some hours here. And if the business is there I think I could get the coverage, and some of
those folks are a lot better with modern chipped cars and other stuff.”
“Deal.” Griffith held out his hand. They shook on it and after a few more words Elgin took off his coat, hung it up and went to check out the garage bays that had been locked up for some years. In a few minutes Griffith heard things starting to be moved around. The offer, and the final deal had caught him completely off guard, but he felt good about it.
-o-
After work Elgin got a ride home with a great grandmother of someone related to him on his mother’s side. The snow had half buried his lane again but it was only half an hour’s work to clear the fluffy blown snow away. Tracks in the snow from under the porch showed that Humph had been out but had returned not long ago.
Inside Elgin microwaved the meal Griffith had given him ‘as a signing bonus.’ While it cooked he checked out Humph, who had returned to exactly where he’d been when Elgin had left. Cat’s generally didn’t fiddle with things that worked for them. The big cat growled grumpily as Elgin checked him out, but didn’t resist, snap or bat with half extended claws, he looked back with half lidded sapphire blue eyes.
He did protest a bit when Elgin manipulated the hip that had been crushed the night before, “Still hurts a bit does it?” He rubbed the side of his face, it still felt bruised, but despite what he had expected it didn’t look like much at all, a faint abrasion, probably not noticeable unless you looked closely.
Humph’s breath told Elgin that the big cat had eaten meat recently, “Need to get you a mouth wash boy, hope whatever it was hadn’t been dead too long.” The big blue eyes opened in anger at that, almost as if the cat understood the insult. With a sniff Humph thumped his head down on his pad and closed his eyes, as if ignoring his human friend.
After that Elgin moved around his little metal cabin picking up and neatening things, brushing, this, trashing that. He took his stash of hard liquor and moved it to an out of the way cabinet. A check of the refrigerator showed ten white cans with Beer printed on the outside, making him shake his head, how had he sunk that low? The cans went into the trash with a thump that made Humph growl irritably.
-o-
The next morning was one of Elgin’s days at the ranch, first he hitched a ride to pick up the horse van as he had arranged, and picked up the mare at the Park office and returned her to the outfitters and then took the horse van back and hitched out to the ranch.
He arrived late, but as usual Mitch, the manager, was still in bed and wouldn’t have noticed if Elgin had lied about when he arrived. But Elgin had never found lying to be worth the effort. He simply got down to work mucking out the horse barn then moving new bales of hay into the empty storage bins.
Late in the morning he drove the tractor out to the far lot with a double trailer of hay for the cattle. He broke the ice on the water trough and filled the feed bins. A quick check of the cattle and a scan of their radio frequency ear tags said that they were all present and accounted for.
Lunch was a warm meal at the old farm hand’s bunk house, now Mitch’s bungalow, his live in girlfriend, a hard faced woman with a liking for tight black leather and tattoos, was an ok cook who seemed to do her best on the days Elgin was working. She also smiled at him a lot, when Mitch wasn’t looking. The invitation was quite flagrant, and she hadn’t lost hope at his stubborn refusal to show the slightest sign of understanding the signals she was sending.
The afternoon was Mitch and Elgin doing the two much larger, and closer in lots. It was getting towards dusk when Mitch drove Elgin home. The lane and porch needed some snow removal and then he went in to cook some dinner for himself and prepare a snack for the absent Humph.
-o-
Elgin woke in the middle of the night knowing that there was trouble. Once more he couldn’t explain how he knew but he did, and this time he knew the trouble involved Humph. And the stink of trouble came from the direction of Festus Pauls’ house. Elgin groaned but he was out of his bed before he was finished breathing in again; dressed for the night and carrying his big flashlight he stepped into the chill stillness of the night. A seemingly huge crescent moon was low in the sky lighting everything silver or coal black.
The modern snowshoes he kept for moving in the winter let Elgin fly over the fluffy snow heading for the woodline that separated the little sliver of land that a cousin let Elgin squat on, and the ultra modern faux ranch Festus Pauls maintained with its fabulous views of the lake and mountains.
He had the big metal flashlight to help in the forest but as he reached it Elgin realized he didn’t need it, it was dim, dim but clear under the canopy of mixed evergreen needles and deciduous sticks. That was obviously different, but he’d come to expect different and kept going.
The first shot came as a surprise, Elgin flinched. He turned in some indescribable way and the world went quiet, and took on an almost cartoonish aspect, in color tones that seemed orange. He dived to the side, for a knot of rocks and trees that would provide good cover. As he reached it the world returned to normal and he froze next to an evergreen brush.
Someone screamed, “You son of a bitch cat, I killed you once, I can do it again!” the crack of a rifle shot punctuated the words. The voice was definitely Festus Pauls’…it wasn’t particularly sane.
“Wrrrowr, hummf,” Humph growled from next to Elgin, having appeared from nowhere.
“You know I told you to leave him alone,” Elgin muttered back, trying to lock Humph in was impossible, he’d hoped the big cat was smart enough to avoid Pauls after almost dying at the psychos hands.
Humph sneezed in contempt at that. And Elgin was fairly sure that the big cat had a reason for his apparently suicidal incursions.
Elgin looked around the rock, saw a figure in snow overalls, snow shoes and a rifle with a large sight mounted, which Festus was using to scan his surroundings. Elgin guessed a light amplification night scope. Festus was a bit overweight and out of shape but he moved with the assurance of someone who’d done this before. And Elgin remembered that the rumor was that Festus had retired from the army before making a bundle in some kind of real estate swindle and retiring early.
The scope swept over their hiding spot and froze, the crack of a shot came the instant after the muzzle flash, Elgin felt the round hiss through the air a few inches right of his skull.
“Festus you idiot, you almost blew my head off!” Elgin roared out letting the shock and fear feed his voice.
“Who, who’s there?” The voice was a bit quivery, which Elgin thought was only right since the idiot had come close to murdering a bystander.
“Its Elgin Chalmers, Festus, damnit what the blazes are you doing?”
Elgin strode out from behind the rocks, “I dodged behind the rocks when you fired a minute ago and then you almost take my head off, what the hell is going on?”
“Chalmers? ELGIN!, your damned! Your devil cat! It’s been in my chickens again!”
Ignoring the threat of the semi auto rifle only half lowered Elgin kept on the offensive, “Festus, don’t lie to me. If Humph finds a chicken in the woods he’d probably eat the fool thing, but he won’t come up to your house and steal them out of your wire cage and coup. He sure as hell won’t dig his way in, that’d be a fox or coyote. Now why are you trying to kill my cat?”
“It’s not a natural cat Chalmers.”
“He’s big for his type I’ll agree but he’s natural enough.”
“I killed that damned cat...he got to Prett... the....I, he was after.... Damn it, the thing was dead, I’m sure I hit it with the shotgun, then I hit it with the plow!” which explained the chopping, crushing wound to Humph’s hind quarters.
Elgin stared at Pauls, he should have been feeling rage, and he was angry but he also understood what was going on and the urge to laugh was all but choking him, “The Sheriff told me you had complained about Humph eating your prize hens, and we both know that Kitty keeps those hens because of the eggs. She also said you hate cats, but Kitt
y has a cat, I saw it at fair last summer, a really beautiful Siamese, Shewon the blue ribbon for best of breed. Is it possible that it’s Miss Pretty Paws that Humph is so interested in and has you in such a rage?”
“You’re not listening, I killed that cat! And today it was back! I don’t know how that monster gets in but there it was, licking Pretty like he owned her!”
Elgin sighed, “Look I’m sorry Humph’s taken a liking to Pretty, but its hardly a shooting offense.”
“Her kittens are worth a thousand a piece you oaf, but not if the kittens are sired by that freak of nature.”
Humph took objection to that and his yowl of outrage was deep throated, nearly a roar, certainly aggressive and startling.
Pauls jerked around, his rifle coming up. Elgin lost patience, a flicker of cartoonish orange and he was twisting the big gun up and out of Pauls hands, a back kick behind the knee sent the older man to into the snow.
Having gotten that close he could smell the stink of whisky on the man’s breath, which explained a fair amount. His gold digger of a wife Kitty probably explained the rest. “Festus, its illegal to hunt in populated areas, especially at night, and drunk, and to shoot at domesticated animals. I’d have to imagine this scope is pretty illegal for hunting as well. So right now I hold a lot of cards. But I’d like to make a deal.”
“Go to hell, you freak! How did you do that? One moment you were twenty feet away, the next you’re hitting me!?”
“You’re drunk Festus, I was walking towards you the whole time we were talking, you just didn’t realize it because of the booze.” Elgin reached down, “Take my hand, lets get you home.”
Festus stared at the hand for a long moment then took it, and let himself be pulled to his feet.
He looked around, squinted at Elgin, “It is you Chalmers.” He sounded a bit dazed, looked around again, “Damn it, which way is the house? Can’t see a thing.”
Elgin turned him around, “Come on this way, Kitty’s probably worried about you.”
Kitty wasn’t, she was far too mellow for worry, apparently wine and some time in the hot tub had loosened the uptight society gold digger he’d seen before. In a terry towel wrap over nothing much, she gave Elgin a long slow once over when he brought her husband inside. “Well, aren’t you quite the catch. Fess never said anything about a neighbor like you?” With her hair down and no makeup she was even younger than he’d thought, a trophy wife for sure.
By this time Elgin was half supporting Festus and he was very tired, “Sorry to intrude Mrs. Pauls but your husband’s in no condition to be in the woods with a gun. I guess my cat’s been causing you some trouble.”
At that point Miss Pretty Paws herself jumped onto the back of the white leather couch Kitty had been curled up in. Mrs Pauls picked the cat up, “Oh Fess said that big bad boy was from someplace close, he’s yours?” The big brown eyes ran up and down Elgin’s form again.
“Humph lets me serve him when he’s in the mood. I’m sorry he took a fancy to your cat.”
She rubbed the cats head, “Oh that’s okay, he’s got remarkably beautiful markings for such a sport.”
“It’s been said.” Elgin said over his should as he guided Festus to the couch and lay him down. “Keep an eye on him, he must have drunk a lot to be this out of it.”
“He’s a lightweight with his booze, and he was squealing about a demon cat.” She waved her hand dismissively, “And after shooting that damned shotgun off last night.”
Elgin tried to ignore her, he went back to the door for the rifle, he quickly unloaded it and even stripped the receiver out just to be sure it was disarmed for now. He felt a warm hand stroking his neck, “You are one fine example of Wyoming manhood, what did you say your name was again?” He turned, his face already heating, she was close, her lips curled in a smile, her eyes heavy lidded with promise, the front of her wrap had come loose, showing that she wasn’t wearing even a bikini.
He pulled the front of the wrap together, “It was a pleasure meeting you Mrs. Pauls.” He smiled at her, turned and left.
-o-
Next morning he was at the gas station cleaning up the garage area again. It had been used for general trash for a long time and cleaning it was turning out to be a bigger job than anticipated. Griffith had sent over a couple of his younger cousins and a small diesel dump truck to haul the trash off. Among other surprises it turned out the old garage had a pit rather than a lift for working under cars and the pit had been used as a trash receptacle for decades.
The younger of the two nephews lipped off to Elgin once too many times and found himself digging out the pit as Elgin and the other boy transferred trash to the dump truck’s bed. Both of the boys seemed rather distraught that famously easygoing and ‘soft’ El was a bit of a hard ass and more than a little intimidating when provoked. But neither could bitch because he worked harder than the two of them put together.
“Hey Elgin, you’ve got visitors,” Winifred, another of Griffith’s extended family called through the door.
Elgin sighed, he suspected that he knew who the visitors were, had hoped they’d just send a letter or something. Wiping his hands and brushing himself off as best he could, he glanced in the piece of broken mirror hung by the door into the shop, he’d brushed his hair this morning but it had returned to its natural tousled look but he had shaved so overall he didn’t look too much like the perennial drifter through life he was.
Stepping into the even more crowded than usual shop section he found the Sommer clan waiting for him, he was greeted with, “Hey Elgin!” and wide smiles from the two younger members, and he returned their smiles, they were good kids, good troopers, having never complained or questioned him on the walk out of the hills. “Hey yourselves, Chad, Lacie,” He looked at the tall slim couple behind the kids, so obviously upper class professionals, “you must be Mr. and Mrs. Sommer, you have a couple of great kids, here. Few more years and a little more common sense and they’ll be even better.” At which Lacie and Chad looked rather abashed.
-o-
Samuel Sommer was a professor of psychology and a clinician as well as a writer of books both nonfiction and fiction. From a well off family he’d rarely had to deal with people who were not peers, students, patients or servants, he was not used to dealing with people from different intellectual strata as equals. So it was Belle Sommer who replied, “Mr. Chalmers, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last,” she said smiling and holding out a hand, “I’m Belle Sommer, this is my husband Sam.”
Belle Sommer had gone to university with Samuel and had a similar degree but she ran a temping agency for professional and semi professional services, and she was used to dealing with all sorts. She had taken her daughter’s starry eyed description of the pair’s cowboy savior with a large grain of salt, now she had to retract those mental reservations.
The young man who stepped into the store was six foot while both slim and powerfully built, his face was weather worn but obviously youthful, the eyes an astonishing blue, the hair movie star rumpled blond, the jaw strong, nose sharp cut Nordic. He had a warm understated grin and a voice that should be on radio telling jokes. He was dressed in grease marked patched old jeans and a tartan pattern flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to show muscular arms, also marked with grease.
The cowboy ducked his head as he took her hand, “Good to meet you ma’am,” he said it without much of a pause between words, but it was still somehow warm, he let her hand go and turned to Sam, who had taken a step and held out his hand, the two men shook once, “Good to meet you sir.”
“We’re heading for the airport and wanted to make one more attempt to meet you Mr. Chalmers, I must say you are the first person in a long time who does not appear to have a cell, even a regular phone, you are very hard to get a hold of.” Belle said smiling up at him.
He shrugged, “Prepaid don’t work in the hills, not much else either, not worth the money.” He glanced at the kids, “Something to
remember in future, hear they have satellite phones, or emergency messaging systems, if you want to take a risk again. Few places that are still wild are totally safe.”
“My wife and I have been hiking our whole lives, our children as well Mr. Chalmer. We understand the risks, pack for them, it was just freak weather,” Sam responded sharply.
“Never seen its like for sure,” the cowboy replied easily, though the smile was gone.
“We’d like to thank you in some concrete way Mr. Chalmer,” Belle rushed in, she suspected her husband had no idea how rude he’d sounded. “We thought about simply mailing you a check and a letter of thanks but felt we should speak with you.”
She almost shivered as the blue eyes came back to focus on her, he wasn’t angry but he was what one might call cross, with both of them, then she saw a glint of humor and a softening of the line of his jaw, “Well. That’s very kind, but not necessary, I was up in the hills because of my own damn foolishness, excuse the curse, and it cost me nothing to bring them down with me, in fact they helped me, kept me focused, otherwise I might of gotten to feelin’ sorry for myself,” his lips had curled into an understated, attractive grin.
Lacie spoke up, “Mr. Chalmers, can you tell me the name of your mare, she was simply fabulous carrying the gear, anchoring the line, always following us in line. I wanted to see if mummy and daddy could buy her!”
This got Lacie a long considering look, “Not my horse Lacie girl, I have a deal with the local outfitters to pick from his string. I’m afraid I didn’t even record her ear tag number when I picked her up. You could check with the ostler, but they don’t usually bother this time of year. She was a good horse, pack trained, did what she was taught to do. Doubt she’d be happy away from her herd for any time though. Horses are social animals, humans are okay but not the same.”
Lacie looked very deflated, but also thoughtful, he’d deflated her opinion of him a little and made her think about the downside of her want, all in a couple of sentences. And Belle was certain he’d done both on purpose.
Sam was looking impatient, he’d taken a dislike to the cowboy, probably based on an erratic mixture of jealousy and slighted arrogance, Elgin stubbornly refused to take any money for what he’d done and finally begged off, saying he had two men cleaning up and he needed to get back to the job.
Belle sat looking out at the lake as Sam pulled the bimmer out onto the road and headed for the airport. “Typical yokel arrogance,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth to Belle, the kids both already had headsets on, connected to their smartphones.
“Whatever do you mean Sam, he was very pleasant.”
“You bought the cowboy hero shtick, like the kids?”
“No, I saw a young and somewhat bashful young man stand up for his principles against what must have been a very tempting offer Sam. He’s poor, from what we heard one place and another he’s always been poor, but he has the right instincts. I think he should have taken the money but I can admire him for not doing so and it was not a slam at us, it was more a faintly self flagellating gesture of social solidarity, in your favorite lingo.”
Which shut Sam up for most of the rest of the drive.