They spread out from the peaceful corner, spooked, heads held high and their nostrils flared. The rumble started so softly that she didn't hear it at first. It was the trembling of the liquid in her half-full coffee cup that warned her and she jerked her bare feet up just as the first dust buffalo passed beneath the chair. Its polished horn grazed the bottom of her left foot and she yelped in surprise and alarm.

Like a swarm of gray mice, the entire herd was in motion, swirling like a whirlwind beneath her desk and chair -- spilling out into the room. They bellowed and snorted, eyes wide until the whites showed. The dust motes raised from their passing coalesced into smaller dust buffalos that rumbled, bleating, with the larger ones.

"Babies!? That�s cute, but now there's twice as many!" moaned MacNair, standing up on her chair. "Yo! Duncan? CONNOR?! Anybody!?"

She saw the Scot as he rounded the corner of the stairs. Duncan stopped, stared, and clapped a hand to his brow at the same time. Elegant as always when surprised, MacNair thought. He whistled up the stairway from whence he'd come, one piercing whistle-call. Connor appeared almost instantly and surveyed the scene, pushing a hat back from his head as he did so. Where'd he get the damn hat? wondered Duncan.

"We need the dust buster," remarked the dark immortal, stepping on one stray that galloped into the family room. "OUCH!"

"Watch the horns, kinsman," reminded Connor. "No, what we really need is a cowboy."

POOF!

"What the---!" yelped a startled Duncan. His flowing blue shirt had vanished like smoke to be replaced by full cowboy regalia. Even down to the boots and spurs. "Connor?" he announced, mystified. He shifted his weight instinctively -- the balance of a natural horseman -- as the steed beneath him rolled her shoulders and pawed the ground. "Would you quit practicing that Nakano stuff on ME!"

Connor barely spared him a glance; too busy stamping his feet to keep the stampede confined to the computer room. No need to chase buffalos throughout the house. I just mopped the kitchen and what a con-far-ned mess THAT would be! he grumbled. "Not my doing, Donnchaidh. This is lahoffy's fault for sure!"

"Playing with her magic halo or just throwing wild ideas to conjure us into mischief?"

"Quit jawing and go save MacNair," redirected the elder Highlander with a stern look. "You like playing cowboy to the rescue anyhow!" Beneath his breath, he muttered: Anytime, anywhere ... Duncan to the rescue of damsels in distress.

MacNair looked up from the maelstrom of dust around her chair as she heard him come through the door and strangled on her laughter.

O. Duncan. In. Chaps. On. Horseback. ~Woof-da!~

Her mind was off on some risqu� bawdy cowboy ditty in an instant. "I'm a-lookin' for a cowboy..." Or wait? Maybe it was: "Where have all the cowboys gone?"

"Don't worry, lil' lady," Duncan drawled in perfect character with setting and scene. His dark eyes were lazily amused at MacNair's expression.

O. My.

The two of them would have just ridden away into the sunset, but there wasn't any sunset at noon and besides, the sturdy steed vanished with another POOF as soon as they were out of the computer room. They both went sprawling on the floor and Duncan ended up with wrinkles on his favorite blue silk shirt because MacNair grabbed him as they went down.

...Then it was off to get the vacuum while Connor held back the tide of rolling thunder by fanning them back into the room with his hat. (Where'd he get the damn hat? inquired Duncan once again.) In short order, the open nozzle of the Kirby was sucking the errant herd into oblivion and order was restored.

Except for the shoveling, of course.

MacNairCDC
Aug. 30, 2001

Thanx to lynnann for the dust buffalos. (They should be trademarked!) Thanx (I think) to lahoffy for Muse provocation.

Back to The Playroom

Back to the Library

Home