 |
| Lemme see, Last night I walked the desert, Then it was with Robin Hood, in Sherwood of all places. Minutes later it was wolves at night baying at the moon. Checking poems just for sure. Yes, then scary faces. I rode with a Thunder goddess as she tracked a demon spirit. Hours later I soared the sky in an eagles underwear of down. Then I took a picture of a lovely naked lady. I stood back and waited for her to come and take her gown. This don�t seem to be werkin, it�s readin like a spread sheet. Let me stop and think a second, I�ll come up with somethin. It can�t be about where I�ve been, I�ve never seen those places. Romance don�t quite fittin the group, nor some country bumkin. How about I write a story? I heard a little from a foreign feller. We were sittin in a bar one night and he mentioned a cougar an! He never got to the story, all he talked about was his golden coins. Hours later I asked him: The cougar an what? He threw up his hands. Later in my hotel room I thought about the story. I pictured him as a mountain man somewhere long ago. His pack mule not far behind he took a narrow trail. He had supplies enough for months but not enough through winter. He�d have to do some hunting and maybe trap a little. First he�d have to make some shelter the season soon would change. He found a small clearing, he�d build his cabin here in the middle. After caching his supplies he built a makeshift shelter. Then a place somewhere close for the horse and mule. He cut some lodgepole saplings and made a barricade. An ax, hatchet, hunting knife and his guns his only tools. "I thought to myself he�s quite a man to do this all alone". He began cutting timber for the wall of his cabin. He drug them with his horse to the site from the timber stand. He was exhausted after everyday, a few accidents had happened. But after a week or so the horse learned what to do. Through some trial and error three walls now stood alone. Ending at the front and back door, higher up would be the problem. But as he wiped his furrowed brow it looked more like home. For days he pondered about the walls, six foot was all he had. Then one day while pulling things on a travoise he had built, he had an idea he could use the same to place the heavy logs. He leaned two at an angle and drug the logs up them like a hill. After slabs and pine tar and a little dirt, the house was nearly done. Chinking all the cracks with mud would keep the walls much warmer. The next few days was doors and windows, a table and a bench. "All the while I�m thinking about cougar an and the foreigner." The Masked Writer <o.-> <o.o> � 2002 T Lovett (part one) The $$ cougaran $$ ??? part II After slabs and pine tar and a little dirt, the house was nearly done. Chinking all the cracks with mud would keep the walls much warmer. The next few days was doors and windows, a table and a bench. "All the while I�m thinking about cougar an and the foreigner." Now being settled in at Fall the cabin so much better now. I fix a little supper in a pot hung by the bail. It�s hanging in the fireplace, such a comfort to the cabin. I look around at what I�ve built and all without one nail. Sittin at the table eatin beans mixed with roots. I gaze into the fire my mind far away but yet still close at home. I�d seen the dams the beaver built and watched them hard at work. They reminded of the one I�d built but I�d done mine all alone. I even built a smokehouse to hang the meat to cure. Then one night a bear came and took all meat I had. I guess I couldn�t blame him, the intruder that I was. He was as hungry as I had been so I guess it wasn�t bad. He needed the food to make the fat to endure the hibernation. After that I placed some more in a tree only he could get. I knew later in the winter he wouldn�t bother much. I�d trap and take the beaver pelts and he the meat that�s left. The winter wasn�t quite as harsh I expected it to be. Oh, it always snowed but not the blizzard kind. Friends came to visit me but never stayed to long. Once under a deerskin pelt a pair of moccasins I�d find. They came in mighty handy as my boots had seen their day. One was tied in a possum skin, the sole already gone. The gift came from single tracks, not several like before. Then the mule disappeared, why didn�t they take the horse along? Several days more went by when I found where the mule had gone. We were walking along when something spooked the horse. I went in the direction he was shying from and saw it in a tree.. There was the leg with a hoof attached, the mules foot of coarse. Big cat pug marks all around the base, showed who did the deed. Musta been a big one to carry it several miles in the brush. I followed as best I could but lost the tracks up in the rocks. I heard the scream behind me, my veins filled in a rush. I turned slow and easy, there he was just above me. Standing tall and fierce, even huge on the ledge. Ears flat and gaping mouth he snarled then turned away. Why he never took advantage he certainly had the edge. I shook that night thinking back how close I came to death. I�ve since seen the mountain cat, times close some far away. He seemed to be watching me but I had another feeling. I�ve never found his den of yet but maybe I will someday. I saw her at the beaver pond naked as a jaybird. Bathing in the blue water singing to herself. Her back was to me but I could tell she was a beauty to behold. She stepped out of the water to her clothes on a rock shelf. My heart stopped for an instant as I saw the yellow cat. He was walking up behind her as she slid into her dress. Panic overtook me and I froze for an instant. Then I rushed out to shoot, and against her leg he pressed. He walked around her rubbing as she knelt to touch him. She squatted on the ground and looked into his eyes. He licked her face and she rubbed his head held in her arms. Then she looked in my direction pointing to my surprise. Grinning she hurried off and disappeared in the brush. That night I pictured her in the water where she�d been. Long yellow hair in braids and a body I would kill for. She was just a lovely fully dressed as she stood in her doeskin. Her breasts were full and firm and she was lithe like a deer. Her stomach smooth and flat and a blonde I�ll not lie. Her eyes looked green from where I stood but I was far away. Seventeen or early twenties in the prime of her life. The next few weeks I could feel her staring at my back. I never got but a glimpse of her somewhere in the trees. Then one day as I was bathing in the beaver pond, I heard her giggling voice and the purr of her cat. Then it was silent, not a word or a snapping twig. I walked out of the water to find she�d taken all my clothes. All she left were the moccasins, new breeches and a top. The buckskin soft but durable replaced mine full of holes. Still a game of hide and seek as I continued daily chores. One afternoon I came home and washed my hands and face. I turned to pick the dry cloth up, something caught my attention. Her smiling face in my bed motioning me to take my place. The love we shared all through the night and the morning after. I expected her to disappear but to this day she�s still with me. Several days afterwards I heard a noise outside. No-name hurried out the door, I walked out so I could see. Four braves astride ponies and armed to the teeth. Scornful looks in my direction. told me I should stand aside. It sounded like an argument between no-name and the braves. Riding off with spears raised amid yells to display wounded pride. All that night she was troubled, I could sense it in her eyes. In the morning we dressed and she took my hand to lead me. We rode with me behind up and over the mountain. I kissed her neck in memory, I feared she was ready to leave. Out over the valley floor far from where I�d ever been, were skinned pyramids of poles wrapped in animal hides. A party came to greet us, or escort I should say. Then came the four I knew, paired off they rode to my side. I tried dismounting but was pulled off to the ground. No-name interceded and helped me to my feet. The chief stood in regal dress a stern look on his face. They talked native tongue and I never understood their speech. After some discussion the chief took both our wrists. He held them while a brave bound us in leather bands. We were led though a close knit crowd of people of the camp. We were shoved in a teepee by rough unruly hands. After the flap was down and secure I started to untie us. No-name grabbed my hands and I saw fear in her face. She led me to a blanket and pulled me down beside her. Three days they kept us tied and fed and guarded in this place. The fourth light they brought us out and cut off our restraints. My wrists were chaffed but worth it, making love three solid days. The chief took our hands again and sung a song to the sky. Then we were helped upon two ponies, both rode by braves. The long trip home was done in silence, not one word was spoken. No-name watched me, she smiled the whole journey home. I thought what was there to smile about? Being bound like a criminal. We were treated like animals and now my horse was gone. I awoke sometime in the night and I saw no-name gone. I headed out the door but a snarl soon turned me back. The yellow cat guarded the door and would not let me pass. I sat a while then went to bed and in sleep forgot the cat. I awoke to someone shaking me, no-name wanted me up. She took my hand and I heard the whinny of horses just outside. I looked and saw four ponies, two paints a chestnut and a bay. Leaving with out breakfast we took off to take a ride. She was grinning and laughing and pulled up by my side. She pulled me down and kissed me, and held it a while. I saw familiar territory, it was the way to the camp. I�d also seen the riders on the ridge for the last few miles. Entering the camp we were left alone but still being watched. The chief came from the teepee putting on his feathers. No-name took my hands with the reins and held them toward the chief. The chief just ignored me to look the horses over better. Without a word he gestured and a brave took them away. He turned to enter the teepee but my mate called his name. He turned and she took him aside, their voice tones were low. He nodded in satisfaction, gesturing a brave and my horse came. I assumed no-name stole the horses from some neighboring tribe. I also guessed she�d made a trade though voices low and inaudible. They�d also brought my saddle, I�d seen it in the dirt. Maybe he had taken the horse as a dowry which sounds plausible. Our home life was now routine and no-name was with child. Yellow cat had become my friend now and loved my attention. But sometimes I heard low growls when I held no-name in my arms. No-name opened the door and made him go to detention. One day some soldiers came just stopping for information. I had little knowledge of the surrounding area and told him so. Suddenly the quartermaster whispered in the captains ear. He opened up a pouch and they looked in studied voices low. The captain approached no-name and looked at a mark. It was a birthmark on no-names neck shaped like a gun. He asked what her name was and he got no response. They called in another soldier who spoke to her in tongue. He found she was Cheyenne and knows not of her past. The clerk told the story of a family found murdered. The girl child never found but notes and letters held a lot. The graphics he described, the cursing words I uttered.. It was proven that the killers were down on their luck miners. Jewelry was found on them along with a pictured locket. No retribution necessary as all three turned up dead. One a gun in hand, full of arrows, never got to cock it. A blond headed girl about two was pictured in the necklace. The birthmark clearly visible above the neckline on her dress. I asked the interpreter if she had told him her name. He replied she had it was "nanose�hane-ve�ho�a�e", he guessed. "nanose�hane" meant cougar in Cheyenne language. "ve�ho�a�e" is white woman now but "Kase�eehe" was as a child. The records indicate she is Andrea Romaine Lassiter. They marked her missing off the book, she�d been in it quite a while. We shook hands and they rode away I felt peace at last. No-name was somebody, she owed the camp her life. I muttered over the words he said, Andrea first and cougar last. NOW I HAD IT!!!!!! CougarAn was my wife!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The Masked Writer � 2002 T Lovett |
|
 |
 |
|
| The $$ cougaran $$ ??? Parts I & II |
 |