Second Star to the Right, Chapter 6 and 7

Second Star to the Right

by Mctrip7

Rating: PG-13
Genre: Suspense, Angst, Romance
For: Connor, as requested
Archive: Trip
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Paramount, but the story is mine
Summary: Anticipation, Realization

Chapter 6

Enterprise . . .

“Well, I’m going to school tonight. The law says it’s a crime for them to go to school; but Bethany’s teaching the children anyway!”

~~~~

There was no mistaking the deep guttural growl of a bobcat, a big bobcat. . . . .

Clay reached for the rifle as he scanned the terrain for the location of the noise. Then he spotted the big cat up on a ledge thirty feet or so ahead of them; but the animal wasn’t looking in their direction. Again he growled. This time Clay heard another sound, a human sound. He saw the bushes to their right begin to move. They revealed a young boy of four or five with bloody scratches all over him. Some looked like claw marks.

In an instant, Clay made a decision. He shifted the rifle to his left hand and urged Chiric toward the boy. If he could scoop him up and head off, they could be in and out before the cat knew what was happening. As Clay leaned over to grab the boy, he saw that the boy’s foot was caught in a small animal trap. Clay tried to pull the trap, too; and in doing so slid off his horse. He almost got his foot caught in his stirrup, but he held on to the boy. When Chiric realized Clay had fallen, he turned to come back. Clay waved him off, shouting for him to go get Sam.

Hastily separating the trap from most of the roots of the bushes, Clay pulled the boy, bushes and all, into the rocks in front of the sandstone wall. This gave them some protection. He held the rifle and waited for the cat to come. The little boy leaned against him. Clay put his arm around him as he said: “Don’t worry, we’ll get out of this. Sam’ll be back as soon as he sees Chiric without me.” It was then that Clay noticed his reddish brown skin.

“You’re an Indian. How’d you get out here by yourself?” Then Clay remembered the Indians he had seen at the arroyo. They had appeared very upset – maybe this was why. Then the thought flashed through his mind “What if they think I stole him?”

About that time, he heard a distinct growl that was not coming from the ledge. The little boy pulled on his shirt and pointed to the wall. Clay saw the crack in the sandstone. The little Indian stood on his good foot and hopped over to it. He slipped through the crack and motioned for Clay to follow him.

“I’m afraid I can’t fit through that hole. You stay there, though. You’ll be safe. I’ll keep the cats away.” He sounded much surer than he felt. At least the little fella was safe.

All was quiet again. Clay gathered up the remnants of the bushes he had dragged along and was able to reach a dead tree limb lying near the wall. He had heard the ranch hands talk about keeping the coyotes away with a night fire. He hoped it would work with bobcats as well, if they had to be here that long.

While gathering the wood, Clay had managed to rake dry leaves along, too. It was light now but after dark, he wasn’t sure he would be able to see the cat if it tried to come close. This way, he would hear it. (So he told himself)

After a while, his young friend crawled out of his hiding place and sat by him. He looked very weak. Clay wished he’d grabbed his canteen as he was falling. There was surely no water in this dry place. He knew there were some plants you could break a leaf off of and suck the liquid; but there were also others that were poisonous. He made a note to check this out when he got back to the ranch.

The boy pointed to the metal trap around his foot. Clay laid his rifle in front of him.

“In all the confusion, I forgot about the trap. You must be in awful pain. Let me see if I can open it,” Clay said as he looked at the metal contraption. “Here, this is the spring. I’ll pull it back and you pull your foot out.” Clay grabbed the spring and pulled. It proved harder than it looked. The spring was rusted. Clay put his strength into it, but even that didn’t look like it was going to work. Finally, he used his boot to hold it and put all his strength into pulling. At last, it gave just a little; but it was enough to get the small foot out. All Clay could put on the ugly wound was the saliva from his mouth. He had heard this would protect it, if you didn’t have anything else. He tore a piece off his shirt and wrapped it around the injured foot.

"I think that will hold until we get help," Clay said as he took the boy in his arms." Because of his size, Clay guessed the boy to be four or five years old. "How old are you? Maybe four years?" He pointed at the boy and held up four fingers.

The little Indian hesitated, then shook his head and raised five fingers.

"Oh, I beg your pardon . . .,” .touching his chest.

The boy said something, but Clay didn't understand. Thinking for a moment, the boy slowly uttered the words "Red Eagle" and pointed to himself.

"Red Eagle," Clay repeated, curious why the boy would know these English words.

Red Eagle was very pleased. He responded "Cal aay?"

“Very good.”

A rustle of leaves brought Clay up instantly. He grabbed his rifle and made a mental note not to put it down again. The sun would be going down shortly; so he needed to stay alert.

It would be better for you to stay in the cave,” Clay said motioning to the entrance. Red Eagle didn’t question, but followed Clay’s pointed finger.

Minutes passed, but Clay didn’t hear any more noise. He could feel his heart pounding. Was the big cat edging closer? Had it found a place without any leaves? He moved his gun from side to side. He figured he was only going to get one shot off.

“Wonder if I could get my feet through that hole in the rock?” he said to himself. “I could back into the cave as far as I could – at least, I would be blocking the entrance and Red Eagle would be safe.” He continued to explore his options. He eased back to the opening. It was more of a slit than a flat opening. He would have to lean forward on his elbows to give himself the right trajectory. That meant he wouldn’t have control of his aim if the cat charged.

Slowly he began moving his feet into the cave. He moved them from side to side. There couldn’t be more than ten inches across. He knew he couldn’t get his hips through the opening. He put the toe of his boot on the heel of his other boot – no obstruction. He raised the top boot as high as he could, at least another eight or ten inches. If he could turn on his side, he might be able to get through.

He would have to take his belt off, but it sounded like it would work. Again he started sliding backwards, one foot on top of the other. Then he turned on his side, all the time holding his gun in front of him. It was a tight squeeze but after a few wiggles, all but his head was through. One last look and he turned his head toward his shoulder and jerked it through the opening.

When he looked back out the slit, two fangs and terrible breath met him. Before he could retrieve his arm, the big cat pounced. His claws raked Clay’s arm, but not deep enough to hold him. Clay fired his gun. The recoil felt like he had garnered a few broken ribs; but the huge paw fell to the ground and disappeared. A shrill scream broke the silence of the evening.

Clay moved back from the opening and was able to sit up. Whimpering, the little Indian came over to be near him. Though his arm felt like it was on fire, Clay put it around the boy and pulled him close.

“We’ll be safe in here. Everything’s going to be OK now. Is this where you were hiding before you got your foot caught in that trap. You can’t understand a thing I’m saying, can you?”

Red Eagle crawled up in his lap and leaned his head against Clay’s chest.

“You may not understand the words, but you know you are safe with me, don’t you? We’ll get through the night and Sam or Beau will come looking for us in the morning.”

Clay continued watching the opening, his gun in his other hand as he held the little boy. The next time he glanced at the little Eagle, his eyes were closed and he was fast asleep. Clay gently laid him on the ground and covered him with his jacket.

“If I can reach any of that brush I gathered earlier, I can make a fire,” Clay mumbled to himself. “Maybe there’s some stuff in here. Without matches, all I can do is feel about. It’ll be dark soon and I don’t want to go outside after the sun goes down.”

“Here’s something. Feels like a limb. And here’s some kindling. Where’s that stick Red Eagle had? I can break it and maybe rub a spark out of it. I’d like to know what this cave looks like. Besides, a fire near the entrance would keep the cat away.”

Clay set about gathering everything that felt like wood. He was surprised that the enclosure was much bigger than he expected. He wondered if there might be another entrance.

He made a small pile of the kindling he had and reached for the stick he had found. Breaking it, he began to swivel it back and forth on a rock that he had placed under the kindling. Nothing happened. Several more disappointing tries.

“Don’t be so impatient,” he told himself. “Remember, Father said it’s perseverance that counts. Just keep a steady pace and it will work.” After what seemed to Clay an eternity, a little wisp of smoke appeared, then a little ember. Some of the dry grass picked up the ember and before Clay knew it, he had a real fire. In fact he wasn’t sure his was such a good idea in this closed place. The kindling was now catching; so Clay took the limb and pushed the whole thing to the opening. He broke the limb in a couple of pieces, lighting one of them and taking a look around. The interior of their hide-out was long and narrow. There was room for him to stand in the middle area. The other end of the crevice revealed a solid wall, no outlet. Clay breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure he could cover two entrances and he was sure the big cats knew every nook and cranny in these hills.

He did find several more branches from long dead trees. He broke them up and returned to the fire. It was gobbling up his little stash at an alarming rate. He separated some of the twigs and the other limb from the main fire.

“I have no idea how long the fire is going to last. I’ll let it burn down some, but if I hear anything I’ll add more wood right quick,” Clay continued thinking out loud. “Just don’t let it go out!”

His arm was beginning to swell. He checked Red Eagle’s foot. It really looked awful. The blood had dried and it, too, was starting to swell. His stomach was beginning to growl, too. “The biscuits!” he said aloud. Then he remembered they were in his saddle bag with Chiric. If he was hungry, the little Indian must be starving by now; but there wasn’t so much as a morsel of food here.

“Surely somebody has missed me by now! I know Chiric would have gone back to the ranch. If Maria saw him, she would tell Uncle John immediately. Maybe Uncle John had to go somewhere and he wasn’t home. What about Sam? If he saw Chiric all saddled up, he’d know I was with him; but he wouldn’t know where.”

“Got to forget about food, and just make do for the night. When the sun comes up, we’ll see how things are. Maybe the cats will have gone to look for something else. I hope.”

Chapter 7

As the golden stallion flew across the open range heading for the ranch, he caught the attention of the near naked red men. They watched in awe as Chiric covered the terrain. They whooped and cheered among themselves. A young brave jumped on his mount and rode out. Shouting, he attempted to catch the stallion; however, the harder he rode, the wider the distance became between them. The other braves had followed their brother, catching up with him as he appeared to have cornered the golden horse in one of the many sandstone canyons.

As they approached Chiric, he reared up on his hind legs kicking his front feet. No one could get near him. The Indians backed away. The golden stallion was something of a legend among their tribe. When he appeared out of nowhere, it was regarded as an omen of good things to come.

Their leader, Golden Eagle, came forward. He raised his hand in greeting to the horse. Chiric lowered his feet. All the Indians fell on the ground in reverence.

Chiric saw his chance for escape and took it. He charged them and thundered past the prostrate group as they watched, terrified.

Golden Eagle spoke. “There was a saddle on his back. Someone has ridden the mighty stallion. We will follow him and see where he makes his home. We may learn who he has allowed to mount him.” They saddled up and made their way after Chiric.

By now the stallion could see the ranch in the distance. He also was aware of the Indians following him; but he must get help from the ranch.

Sam saw the cloud of dust in the distance and knew someone was riding hard. He sounded the dinner bell and all the hands available came running. In the past that had been the alarm when the Indians were known to have a raiding party on the prowl.

“What’s up, Sam?” several shouted.

“Rider really high-tailing it, coming in. Can’t see if anybody’s chasing him. Must be or he wouldn’t be riding so hard.” As they watched, Sam could make out Chiric’s golden mane.

“It’s Chiric – alone! Clay’s not on him. Looks like he’s got a saddle on him. Maybe somebody tried to steal the horse and he broke away. As he got closer to the ranch, the dust began to settle. Sam was quick to notice the red men as they turned back.
“Looks like we might be having some company,” Sam said. “They’ve always had their eye on this stallion. Wonder where they caught up with him? What happened to Clay?”

Maria had come out of the house when she heard all the noise. When she saw Chiric, riderless, she began to wail.

“Oh, Mr. Sam. Something’s happened to that dear boy. He left here this morning heading for the high pasture. I just know something has happened to him.”

“I’m sure he’s OK, Maria. He may have fallen off his horse, but we’ll find him. Come on, boys. Let’s saddle up and head out. Didn’t John ride up there this morning, Maria?
I told him I was going to have to stay here and asked him to tell Clay.”

“He left before noon. Something’s happened to Clay. I just know it. Maybe something has happened to John, too. Oh, Mr. Sam, please hurry.”

“We’ll find them, Maria. John knows how to take care of himself and if he’s with Clay, he’ll be OK, too. You go on back inside and lock the doors. Lucky, I want you to stay here at the ranch. Look’s like some of Golden Eagle’s men are milling around. We should be back by dark. If not, get the sheriff.”

“OK, Boss.

Chiric was pawing the ground and then attempting to head out. He continued to do this until Sam came up to him. Sam hesitated. “They may need water – and something for cuts and scratches. Curley, bring some of that stuff you have. I’ll get a couple of canteens.

OK, Chiric, you lead the way.”

The big horse turned and took off. They were all really pressed to keep up with him. Chiric became aware of this and slowed his pace. He knew Clay needed him, but he needed these men, too.

There was no sign of the Indians Sam had seen. Sometimes they just seemed to evaporate. Gave you kind of a spooky feeling.

The group of four men, Sam ,Larry, Curly and Shorty headed North following Chiric. It was already late afternoon; so they were anxious to see where Chiric was going to take them before it got dark. Sam took the lead.

“Looks like we’re headin’ for the ridge, Larry. Let me know if you see Golden Eagle again. I’m curious as to why they were following Chiric. Maybe they have seen Clay.

Meanwhile –

Clay was watching as the shadows got longer. From their vantage point, the sun would be sliding behind the canyon wall very soon. Twilight would last a while, though.

Red Eagle began to stir. Big tears began to roll down his cheeks, but he didn’t make a sound.

“I know your foot must hurt like the devil. My arm is no picnic. Some cool water would sure help.”

Red Eagle tried to stand up, but he was just too weak. Clay pulled him back into his arms saying

“Don’t push yourself. Help will be here before we know it.” He hoped his voice sounded encouraging. He knew the child did not understand the words he had said.

“Let’s feel around and see if we can find any more sticks.” Clay held up a small branch and pointed to it.

Red Eagle dragged himself a few feet and pointed to a slit in the rock. Clay followed his direction and slipped his hand through the opening, very slowly. He felt something solid and attempted to pull it out. A long skinny piece of something dark brown came forward.
Clay thought it was a piece of leather. The boy took it and bit off a piece and handed it to Clay.

“No thanks, I’m not that hungry, yet.

The little one kept insisting until finally Clay took a piece and put it in his mouth. It tasted like meat.

“I know what this is. It’s that stuff the ranch hands keep in their saddle bags. They call it jerky. Where did you get it? How did you know it was there?” He made the sign to say “Thank You.” Red Eagle smiled. Again he had Clay cross his forearms in front of him as he did the same.

“I know this means somethin’, but I don’t know what,” Clay commented. “Maybe Sam can tell me.”

At the mention of Sam’s name, Red Eagle made a motion with his right hand and said “Gooo od”.

“You’re saying that Sam is good. Yes, he is. He’s very good. He talks to your people, sometimes.”

The little boy was pensive. He just stared at Clay.

Clay said “Your father, is he Golden Eagle?”

The little boy tilted his head, with a curious look on his face.

Clay repeated the word “Father”, then said “Chief”. He extended his arms in a flying motion and pointed to one of the buttons on his jacket. He had heard Sam and Shorty mention Golden Eagle’s name as Chief of the Comanche in the area.

Red Eagle gave some thought to what Clay had said. He then repeated the word “Chief, Comancia.” He picked up Clay’s jacket and inspected the button, turning it this way and that. The little fire gave off enough light that the button reflected it. He smiled and nodded his head.

“This must be the way you refer to your elders,” Clay smiled.

A sudden rustling of the leaves startled Clay. He picked up the rifle lying on his lap and cocked it, motioning for Red Eagle to get behind him. The silence that followed was deafening. Then the meanest face Clay had ever seen appeared in the opening. It wasn’t an animal, but it certainly didn’t look friendly. Amid a tirade of words that Clay couldn’t understand, a gun appeared pointed directly at him.

TBC

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