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The air up here still held just the touch of a bite
to it. It was hot, for February. Hell, for May it would be hot. Benny's jacket
was secured behind him, held in place by the straps that bound his bedroll. He
leaned into the wind and let the old ‘Sun have her head. He opened her to
the max.
In his mind, he felt the call of Spring. Felt the
exuberant shouts of wild geese as they floated north. He shook his mind free
of them. That little near-fiasco at Griffin's pool . . . and him with an APB
hanging on his nuts had set him off on this Westward Ho excursion.
“Fo’ sho’ a ‘ho.”
No matter, he was clean, clothing washed, his
stomach replete with corn chips and ginger ale. Benny let the road and the day
take him. He follow a winding country lane through the foot hills of Virginia
in the hopes it would throw off the dogs.
Two Swords was uneasy. He scowled at the sky and
raised one golden eye brow. No word from that quarter. But there would be, and
plenty, if he screwed up. He knew that well enough and winced. Ma was as sweet
and loving a mother as could be, but they didn't call her the Mother of Wolves
for nothing. And she trained her kids in the same way.
Eagle-Mother hated to see anything, anything,
die. Something Two Swords wasn't exactly opposed to, not when it came to
protecting his hellion, one wet-behind-the-ear Benny Wya Grey. But Ma in a
rage was definitely not a fun lady. A Spec Agent for the Project, John
Johanson, Tina's hubby, had to have eye implants after he snagged the kid up
in Kills Deer, New York, on the rez. Eyes went up in a puff of smoke. Burned
right out of his pretty blondy head, the freek.
“Cops,” Two Swords said in a low grumble,
“got no sense of humor, for a fact.”
The Uohali-Gold Sun he rode purred in
agreement. A-Heart-a'-Fire snorted through her manifold at him for the joy he
felt.
“What do you mean I'm a cannibal?” he
shouted. “I never ate another spirit, ever.”
He chortled. “'Course, I wouldn't a minded
having Crazy Gracy Hylnn's liver on the B.B.Q.” Heart shuddered and Two
Swords slapped her tank. “Yeah. She'd probably o’ given even the Owl
indigestion, the old bat. Still, I bet Anna Grey-Wolf would o’ chewed her
up, and without ketchup, I bet.”
Owl droppings.
The thought came from the sword/motorcycle and Two
Swords laughed.
Benny slowed. Off to his left was a herd of Jersey
cattle drowsing under the bare and wind blasted branches of some walnut trees.
His stomach growled.
Benny growled back.
FEED ME, the wolf within demanded. RED
MEAT! STEAKS! HOT-
Benny groaned. Food wasn't exactly what he needed
right now. That little bim back in DC had looked at him real sweet. Eatin'
stuff. This despite the scummy creep she was with. He ached to go back, the
conditioning in his mind was harsh in its demands. No matter what, he'd get no
sleep tonight, no rest, thinking about the one he passed up in favor of
freedom and the open road.
He let the Red Sun glide to a stop. She purred,
arched beneath him. Benny stroked her tank and pulled her onto the stand.
Nina hard on his mind, and other body parts, Benny
wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Been a while, and milk ain't all that filling,
dude.”
Two Swords pulled up beside the Red Sun and the two
motorcycles exchanged greetings. All Benny heard was the mutter of his engine
and a faint stirring of the hair on the back of his head. Like when that big
ugly dude, the Guardian, would catch him in the dohi:yi and toss him out on
his butt. Dude had a face only a bull dog in heat could love.
Two Swords swung off and followed Benny through the
barbed wire. He didn't have to duck, the wire was nothing to one from the real
world. The dairy cattle watched with placid eyes, jaws constantly moving,
making more of what made milk.
With scant grace, the matriarch of the herd lumbered
to her feet. She presented needle sharp horns to Benny. Wary, he stopped and
spoke with respect for the horns and sharper hoofs. More than once he had seen
what they were capable of, in the remains of coy-dogs and a mountain lion.
The entire herd surged up, ready for flight or fight
as the matriarch decreed.
“Hey, mama,” Benny crooned. He backed away and
squatted on his heels. The eye he had left searched for what Uncle Charlie
called cow candy. The rank odor filled the air. The farmer must be nuts,
letting his herd out on this pasture. Cattle went crazy for the wild garlic
and ate every bit of it. It cleaned the parasites out of them, yeah, but made
the milk taste like manure. Benny spotted the well cropped and soft green of
the weed. He pulled out his knife and the matriarch snorted at Benny, a wet,
angry rumble.
The old girl must have had problems with raiders
before, hungry people who escaped the inner cities and roamed across the
countryside until they went out under a flurry of bullets.
Benny froze. He smiled, saying in low tones, “All
I want is a little of your milk, pretty lady.” He raised his hands to her
and licked the nervous sweat from the downy beginnings of a mustache. She
snorted and shook her head. Then he saw the reason for her anger. A wet, new
calf trembled in the middle of the herd.
VEAL! CALF LIVER!
This was bad, very bad. Jerseys are a nervous breed
to begin with. Put a calf in with them, and they can go insane. Jersey cows
had been known to run bulls off. Benny ignored the pleadings of his stomach
and rose in a slow, steady motion. Nothing to startle them, calm and collect.
Just like he didn't feel. The boots slipped back and never taking his eye off
them, Benny moved in the shortest direction to the fence.
The old milker wasn't about to let him off without a
strong warning, though. She rumbled deep in her chest with a strength that
would do the bull proud. Sharp cloven hoofs pawed the muddy earth, sending
clods of grass and manure up over her shoulder. The head dropped and Benny
sprinted for the fence.
With a scant six inches to spare, he vaulted the
fence. Two Sword's well-placed foot sent him over with more room than he
needed to clear the wire. Pain jolted through his buttocks, Benny landed on
his feet with a gasped.
“Chri-sake.” Benny scowled at the old
boss and rubbed the slack in the seat of his jeans. “What a way to lose your
virginity.” He chuckled, then laughed out loud. The Jersey shook her horns
and trotted back to the herd.
With a pat of comfort for his 'wolf,' Benny hopped
the ditch and returned to the Red Sun. There was a patch of sun-chokes back
down the road a mile or so, the winter worn tubers would have to do. Plenty of
orchards around here. Maybe he'd get lucky and spot a few withered apples on
the trees.
The price for freedom came high at times. But he
wouldn't trade this for the cushiest room and the best efforts coming out of
the kitchen at the Manse for any-dammed-thing. Christ, but it was good to be
free.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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