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For 218Bee (Private)

whiteclouderwhiteclouder Member Posts: 10,574 ✭✭✭
edited April 2002 in General Discussion
The descent into the valley was slow as they picked their way along the game trails. With the sun cut off by the big trees, the air was chilly, and Simon was anxious to get out of the shade. Spud had disappeared again, searching dark secluded places, catching scents he'd never smelled. Soon, more and more low bushes and aspen trees appeared and Simon knew they were nearing the edge of the dense forest. Still, the transition from dark to light was abrupt. The horse snorted his pleasure as they stepped into the sun, some two hundred yards from the creek bed below. Simon looked upstream and saw the narrow defile that had prompted his climb two days before. He looked around for the dog and couldn't spot him, then urged the horse toward the creek.On nearly level ground again, he turned downstream. Ahead loomed the first of several outcrops of rock that partially blocked their way. Simon carefully maneuvered the horse over the rock-strewn ground, the head-high wall of mountain granite on his right made him nervous. As they approached a wider section of the trail, he caught a glimpse of something moving."Spud?" He quickly glanced uphill and then toward the creek. Nothing.Simon halted his horse and looked up at the huge boulders on the hillside. Nothing moved, but the feeling of a presence was strong and the back of his head tingled with fear of the unseen. He tugged the rifle loose in the scabbard and then reset it. The feel of the cold steel was reassuring. As he straightened in the saddle, his horse snorted, and he felt a tremor course through the animal. Casting about for the cause of the horse's agitation, his breath was taken by the sight of a mountain lion, crouched and completely immobile in the trail just ahead. The yellow eyes, unblinking and steady, were fixed on Simon's own and the tip of the incredibly long tail twitched back and forth like a metronome. Simon judged the distance to be about fifty feet.He rapidly sorted through his options: turn and run, charge straight at the cat, or shoot it. He didn't want to expose his back and a charge might be met with a counter-charge. Simon reached behind his leg to grasp the stock of the Winchester, thankful he had eased it loose only moments before. The long barrel quickly cleared the scabbard and Simon swung the rifle to his shoulder. He pressured the horse with his left knee as he levered a round into the chamber. The horse wouldn't turn toward the rock wall and snorted anxiously. Simon realized that the twitch of the tail had stopped and he saw the cat lift its belly off the ground with a fearful ripple of bunched muscle. Panic rode hard over his common sense and standing in his stirrups, he aimed the rifle past the horse's head, struggling to center the front blade on the cat. He took the heavy blow on his right shoulder a fraction of a second after the sights settled and the trigger released the hammer. The Winchester recoiled with the crash of the shot, and the horse reared back as the concussion slapped the top of its head. Simon, the Winchester still in hand, was bowled off the horse by the weight of the second mountain lion. He lit flat on his back in the willows, his mind gathering information frantically, trying to work out what was happening. He heard the second cat splash into the creek and the ungodly howl of the first cat as it reacted to the heavy bullet pouring fire into its lungs. The sound of his horse bolting up the trail was nearly lost on him. Simon scrambled to get up, and had barely reached his knees when he saw the second cat turn to catch sight of him. The deadly concentration in the golden eyes matched the ferocity of the hissing cough as it bared yellow-brown teeth. Simon could not get the rifle unsnarled from the willows, and watched as the cat dug its claws into the bank, and lunged toward him.The dog clamped his teeth into the cat's cheek as he flashed by. Ninety pounds of enraged canine twisted in the air as his clamped jaws ripped the cat's upper lip back. Spud crashed into the willows. Growling ferociously, he scrambled to his feet, seized the cat's tail and viciously twisted his head back and forth. Tawny hair flew in every direction as the lion defensively blew its fur, and with a screaming snarl, * loose of the dog's grip. In two twenty-foot leaps it was out of sight.Spud rolled the big patch of hair and skin out of his mouth and shook his head. Breathing heavily, he looked at Simon for a moment, and then in the direction the lion had gone. He growled nervously, then walked over to Simon and sat down, shivering. Man and dog sat silently, touching each other for reassurance.The horse had not run very far and its limited brain was concentrated on the lush grass by the creek, the smell of the cat long gone, therefore, no longer a threat. Simon mounted and after some coaxing, rode the horse past the dead cat, and out into the widening valley. Several hours later, the familiar sight of Tay's dugout and the blue-gray tendril of wood smoke brought a smile of anticipation to Simon's face.Clouder..

Comments

  • varmit huntervarmit hunter Member Posts: 1,674 ✭✭✭✭✭
    edited November -1
    I just had to steam it open.
    A unarmed man is a subject.A armed man is a citizen.
  • whiteclouderwhiteclouder Member Posts: 10,574 ✭✭✭
    edited November -1
    Varmit:'Private' and 'No trespassing' doesn't apply to friends. Hell, y'all know that. Clouder..
  • simonbssimonbs Member Posts: 994
    edited November -1
    Sorry for being nosey but, is that an excerpt from a book you're writing? Excellent use of detail, got my heart rate up. Mind you, I'm far from a book critic, its pleasurable reading.
  • whiteclouderwhiteclouder Member Posts: 10,574 ✭✭✭
    edited November -1
    simonbs:The 'private' was TIC. Yeah, that's from near the end of book 2. It was actually this board that got me started. Woodsman and monkey (crap, there I've fallen into the attribution trap, I know I'll leave someone out and remember soon's I post this) and several others used to play here at writing stories. That kind of died off but I had so much fun at it I decided to write a novel or two or three. I will submit the first one to a publisher next week. I'm pleased you enjoyed it. Clouder..
  • simonbssimonbs Member Posts: 994
    edited November -1
    I remember those stories - back when Bob in St. Louis hung around. Let us know when the first run is out , I'd definetly like to read them.
  • turboturbo Member Posts: 820 ✭✭✭✭
    edited November -1
  • Miss. CreantMiss. Creant Member Posts: 300 ✭✭✭
    edited November -1
    simonbs,Bobinstlouis is still around as are many of the other old timers. They stay over on the dark side now.
  • simonbssimonbs Member Posts: 994
    edited November -1
    Miss Creant,Can you shoot me an email? bsimon@sirote.comThanks.
  • groundhog devastationgroundhog devastation Member Posts: 4,495
    edited November -1
    Clouder, Don't stop now!!! Send some more and tell us when we can get the whole story. When I first started reading it I had that picture I think was on an old Remington or Winchester calender in my mind!! It was probably a Winchester calender where the man was on the horse and the cougar was above him on the rock. You just brought the picture to life! GHD
  • v35v35 Member Posts: 12,710 ✭✭✭
    edited November -1
    Good story. I've got a couple of questions.Will a horse only run a short distance with his ears in the cone of fire, a foot away from the muzzle? Also, aren't rifle scabbards in front of the saddle at the rider's knee?
  • Miss. CreantMiss. Creant Member Posts: 300 ✭✭✭
    edited November -1
    Simonbsyou have mail
  • whiteclouderwhiteclouder Member Posts: 10,574 ✭✭✭
    edited November -1
    v35:A horse will run a far as he wants to. Not being a wiseass. They are as unpredicatable as any animal on earth and stupid. I hate 'em. To shoot past his head like that is a no-no, done only in extreme circumstances. A good hunter will get off to shoot.The scabbard can be tied on most anywhere. I carry mine under my left leg with the butt to the rear and about 30 degrees off horizontal. Some folks carry it nearly vertical, in front of their knee. I like mine where its at cuz when (not if) the SOB goes down, he won't crack the stock off.Glad you enjoyed the story.Clouder..
  • simonbssimonbs Member Posts: 994
    edited November -1
    V35,Depends on the horse.Some models face backwards.Thanks Miss Creant.Edit: Sorry, Clouder beat me to it.[This message has been edited by simonbs (edited 04-09-2002).]
  • 218Beekeep218Beekeep Member Posts: 3,033
    edited November -1
    Clouder:It`s between 3 and 4 in the morning..I should not have been up to read that,but am very glad I was!I kinda thought all I had to do was ask..thanks for taking the time,it was good of you.Miss.Creant,you sneaky,sneaky...uh...girl!Have you no shame?.218
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