A/N: Oh...my...gosh. You guys... –tears up- THANK YOU!
Wow. My stats were suddenly reset. Weird... –"Twilight Zone" theme plays-
I'm sorry about the wait, people. Stupid writer's block (as expected) popped up out of nowhere, and then the "Goblet of Fire" midnight showing...then my sister coming to visit from college...AND HOMEWORK! –growls- But the tri's over, sooo...yeah. Anyway, here it is.
Chapter Four: Clay
It was sort of like in the horror films.
Everything's happy, fine and dandy, nothing could go wrong... you get it... when, suddenly, the characters hear the most horrible thing in the world...
"Where are my grandkids?" An old woman's scratchy voice hit the eardrums of her grandchildren with the same quality as nails on a chalkboard. "Clayie Wayie? Jesse Wessie?"
The two children in question stopped what they were doing to exchange a look of horror.
"Run!" hissed the boy.
His sister didn't need to be told twice.
Six-year-old Clay Bailey ran flat out across the family Texas cow ranch, right on the heels of his five-year-old sister Jesse. It was obvious the two were siblings, although with select differences. Both of them had sun-gold hair, though the girl's was a touch lighter shade. The same sky-blue eyes, though his contained warmth and a touch of being down-to-earth not usually seen in boys his age, while hers were bright and feisty. As they ran, they both clutched cowboy hats to their heads, no words passing between them as they made for the only safe place they knew.
Dodging and weaving across the flat land, the pair made a beeline for the barn. Reaching it, Clay opened it silently and waited for Jesse to go in before entering the sanctuary himself. Hearing the barn doors close, the young, solitary milking cow looked at them and snorted while turning away from them as though to say Oh, it's you again.
"Hi Bessie!" the children chorused before diving into the nearest haystack. The cowbell jingled slightly as the animal shook herself and went back to the hay before her. Same old, same old.
This was the normal routine when Granny Lily came to visit. The children remained in the hay until they were absolutely certain that their grandmother was settled in their room; even then, they walked around their own home on tiptoe, ears strained for Granny Lily's rasp, "There y' are!"
That was the odd thing about Clay. Usually, even for a small six-year-old (though arguably, Clay was a bit more sturdily built than most boys, making him seem a little taller) Clay held no fear in a situation. A trait his father liked to boast about was how hard it was to make his son lose his head.
Thunderstorms? He outgrew them when he was two.
Rattlers? Well, he'd jump a little, but for the most part he kept calm.
Performing? ...Let's just say he needed work on that...
But there was no doubt in this: invite Granny Lily over for a few days, and Clay had saddled up a horse and was on the prairie faster than you could yelp.
Despite this odd fear of his grandmother, Clay was actually a pretty intelligent boy. Although still in his youth, he was a quick learner, and though very quiet; though often mistaken for a sign of being dull in the head, it was just that he liked to observe what was around him, look at things from all angles. So, naturally, his father favored him when going on a cattle drive and such.
Jesse, on the other hand...
It wasn't that she was a bad girl. It was just...even at young age of five years Jessica Hanna Bailey had her own agenda. She was certainly quick, and intelligent of course, but she liked to use these particular talents for...less savory activities in her father's eyes, and sometimes even in her mother's. Her parents loved her, every bit as much as they loved Clay, but she was a child that it was easy to get frustrated with.
The Bailey monarch had tried to channel this energy of hers into something worthwhile, but...well, if it hadn't been for some quick thinking and action from Clay, most of the herd would probably still be wandering around the prairie. Try as they might to deal with her, no matter how much they loved her, Mr. and Mrs. Bailey just couldn't handle their daughter.
That's why it was so puzzling to see the two get along so well.
So there they were, brother and sister, cowering in a haystack until the danger had passed. They glanced at Jesse's watch every now and then. One minute...five minutes...twenty minutes... Centimeter by annoyingly small centimeter, the minute hand crept around the watch face. Eventually (in what seemed like ten years for the siblings) an hour passed, and they could hear the dinner bell ringing. The two looked at each other.
"...I'll go first," said Clay finally. Jesse nodded in silent agreement.
Reluctantly, the two clambered out of the hay, and promptly started brushing each other off. It was best to leave the evidence of their safe place behind. Together, they made sure each stalk remained within the barn doors. Satisfied with how Jesse looked, Clay turned to leave.
"Wait," she said. When he turned, Jesse reached up and plucked a strand of hay from her brother's hat. "Okay, you're good."
Nodding almost grimly to each other, they turned and marched out the barn, tipping their hats to Bessie before closing the barn doors. The two siblings walked as slowly as they dared toward the house, heads high and backs straight, both with the air of one who was walking to the gallows and wasn't ashamed in the least bit of their crime.
All too soon, they had come to the house. Quietly, Clay and Jesse walked up the front steps, across the patio, and through the front doors, each silently dreading the dinner table, where their escape from Granny Lily was far less likely. They were outside the kitchen door now. Clay swallowed, and Jesse gripped his hand comfortingly, looking at him the way a small child stares at a war hero. Clay nodded again, determined, and, inhaling deeply, pressed his back to the wall and crept along it until he could crane his neck to look into the kitchen. Rapidly, his blue eyes flashed around the room, and he dodged back. He breathed a sigh of relief and grinned at his sister.
"She's not there," he said. Her face lightened visibly; then she blinked, and dropped her brother's hand.
"Well, why're you standin' there like a stuck pig then?" she said brusquely, brushing past him. "I'm starved!"
Grinning, Clay shook his head and followed after, trying to look as innocent as possible.
"Where's Granny Lily?" he asked his mother casually. A kind, plump woman, Mrs. Bailey was not only a wonderful cook, but also, as her husband put it, a "crafts fiend". She had chestnut hair pulled into a smart bun on the back of her head, and her sparkling eyes were a gentle hazel. Pausing briefly in the food's transfer from the oven to the table, she looked at her oldest and winked.
"Well, she had a rough trip," Mrs. Bailey said with a shrug. "Figured she'd just rest awhile before eatin', y'know?"
Clay grinned broadly and nodded just as Mr. Bailey stomped into the room, obviously ready for a meal.
--P--
Clay could still taste the food on the tip of his tongue, and it had been two hours since the Bailey clan had finished the meal. That was the nice thing about Mom's cooking: it lingered for longer than the meal itself did.
Right now, Clay and Jesse were playing (or, more accurately, roughhousing) with each other, and as usual Clay felt himself going a little easy on his sister. He knew that Jessie didn't mind, but he also knew that if she found out, he was in for one of the worst tongue-lashings of his life. Daddy Bailey was seated in an armchair in front of the fire, reading the newspaper with a frown. As the two sprinted into the room, giggling, they heard him give a disbelieving snort.
"If y'ask me, I'd say the press is getting hungry for a good story," he grumbled to himself from behind the papers. The two children stopped as they rounded the chair, blinked at each other, and then at their father.
"What's that mean?" asked Jesse.
Sighing, Daddy Bailey folded the paper and set it on the small table next to him. "It's just hogwash, Jesse; no need to pay attention to it," he said. He got up and walked out of the room. But after a moment he paused, as though just thinking of something, and turned to his children.
"I'm just going to get some water. I'll be back," said the man warningly. With that, he disappeared through the doorway.
Again, the children looked at each other. After a moment, Clay looked back to the vacated seat and spotted a newspaper headline: TOKYO TOPSY-TURVY. Just below was a picture; his curiosity piqued, Clay walked over and picked up the paper. It was a dark picture, and his inquiring eyes just managed to see a cat-like shape before he saw, out of the corner of his eye, just what his little sister was up to now that she was free of his watchful gaze.
"Jesse!" he gasped, dropping the paper immediately.
For his sister had just done something she really shouldn't have. Jesse was holding, with wondering eyes, the Lone Star of Texas.
Clay really didn't know how she'd gotten hold of it; the bolero tie was, for the most part, right beneath Daddy Bailey's chin. But lo and behold, there it was, gleaming innocently in the firelight. A gold five-pointed star with a ruby center and intricately carved designs round about, the heirloom had been in the family for generations, dating way back to when it was dug up in 1849.
There were two very important rules about the Lone Star: Number One, it was passed down from daddy to son; but Clay knew that it would be a very important date, because he would only get it when he proved himself to be a man. But, only being six years old, there was no chance of that running currently, so the only rule applying to him and his sister was Number Two:
Don't touch.
"What in tarnation d'you think you're doing?" hissed Clay, marching over to his sister.
Jesse held the item beyond her brother's reach. "I'm only lookin', honest!" she said; well, pouted, to be more precise. "Besides," she added, eyes narrowing uncharacteristically at him, "I know I'll never be able to lay hands on it again; that's your job. So I'm just lookin' while the lookin's good!"
"Do you have any idea what Daddy'll do to you if he sees you holdin' that?" Clay whispered urgently, struggling to grab the Lone Star. But to his complete bafflement, his sister was somehow outmaneuvering him, no matter what he did. "You'll be worse than dead!"
"So what if I end up buzzard feed?" snapped Jesse, looking irritated as she danced out of Clay's grasp. She was having difficulty now, for as the urgency of the situation grew, Clay began to pull out more and more stops. "I just – want – to – look!"
At that moment, Clay lunged at his sister. With a yelp, she stumbled backwards, towards the fireplace; her brother caught her by the shirt collar just in time, but the Lone Star slipped from her grasp. Horrified, the siblings watched as the bolero tie twirled through the air, making an odd humming noise as it went, and landed smack-dab in the middle of the fire.
Next thing he knew, Jesse was screaming like there was no tomorrow, and he was about to join in. He heard himself yelling to Jesse to get the tongs, which she handed to him in the blink of an eye. Quickly, he reached in and snatched the golden item from the heart of the blaze. In his haste, he stumbled backwards into his sister and they both crashed into the armchair with two identical yelps.
His eyes closed, Clay didn't want to see the inevitable. He knew that his father would be storming into the room at any second, for no one could have ignored the hullabaloo the siblings had been making in their panic, but still he didn't want to look. Biting his lip, he peeked open an eye anyway, to be greeted by the sight of a somewhat different Lone Star of Texas.
It wasn't burn marks, for, to the children's utmost surprise, there were none; it wasn't melted gold, for, again, the item had not received any damage in that respect. It was the fact that the star was now glowing slightly at the ruby center, as though it had forgotten itself and the fire had reawakened its memory just slightly.
"What is going on in there?!"
Both children jumped at the sound of their father's incredulous voice. Thinking fast, Jesse snatched the Lone Star from the tongs and placed it right back where she'd found it. Clay rushed over to the fireplace to replace the tongs, and both of them managed to get far enough away from the bauble to look innocent before Daddy Bailey burst into the room like some kind of tornado. He looked around, obviously searching for the natural disaster that had been occurring in his absence. Seeing none, he gaped at his children.
"Are you two out of your heads?!" he shouted, looking from one face to the other. The children winced at his raised tones. "What's all the noise?"
Guilt filling him from head to toe, Clay lowered his hat over his eyes. Immediately, he felt the mustached man's eyes on him. Not meeting his father's gaze, he started, "Daddy-"
"I tripped."
Clay jumped and looked at his sister, eyes widening. She was looking at her father with a curious, unfathomable expression that not only covered her face, but reached her eyes with a strange light. Daddy Bailey turned his attention to his daughter.
"Tripped?" he asked skeptically.
"Yes," she said, nodding. "Clay here was telling me not to run around the room so fast, but I didn't listen; so I tripped but Clay caught me."
"Hmmm," said Daddy Bailey. His dark eyes were roving from Clay, to Jessie, then back to Clay, as though just waiting for one of them to burst out the truth. Clay could feel himself fidgeting; he never did too well under the Bailey Glare, which was rather potent even when it was just a look of skepticism. But in the end, he merely picked up the Lone Star and eyed them suspiciously. "Neither of you touched this, did you?"
"I didn't, sir," said Clay. At least that part was true. Jesse merely shook her head.
Again, all Daddy Bailey said was, "Hmmm." Then he replaced the bolero tie and walked from the room.
Clay and Jesse turned to each other. Then the girl said, "How about we don't talk about this ever again?"
The boy silently agreed, biting his lip. After all, who would believe them if they told?
--P--
Dawn was always a favorite time for Clay. Hearing the animals beginning to stir and seeing the rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon, as the remaining stars above his head slowly but steadily winked out with the light that brought them to shame...he never got tired of it.
But it had become even more enjoyable since his Daddy had started to bring him on the cattle drives. He wasn't allowed to rope any of the cattle, seeing as he wasn't strong enough yet to be able to drag a cow back to the herd, but he could shepherd the occasional stray or strays back to the group. But he had to remain in his father's line of sight at all times. Clay didn't mind all that much; he enjoyed the cattle drives immensely anyway.
Today, however...
"Aw, I just don't understand it."
Clay looked over at his father, who was scratching his scalp beneath the cap. "I've never seen 'em so fidgety."
The boy didn't need any further explanation. It was plain to see even to the smallest babe: the cows were acting restless. It wasn't so much in the movement of the herd (they generally stuck together anyway) but in the way they looked. Their eyes roved from side to side, as though they were nervous of some unseen source. And not once in the drive thus far had one cow strayed from the rest; if one started moving away, it would immediately make back for the group. Clay glanced back at his father.
"D'you reckon they think a predator's nearby?" he asked, just a little nervously.
"Well, I'd think we'd've seen one by now," said Daddy Bailey, the beginnings of his mustache frowning with his mouth. He lifted one hand and stroked the Lone Star of Texas thoughtfully.
They trotted onward in silence, the cows' paranoia taking its toll on their herders as they went. Clay, being less hardened than his father, was acutely aware of a sense of not being alone. He nervously looked around the prairie, blinked, and did a double take.
There was a strange blotch out there, though if it were an animal or just a small hill, he couldn't tell at this distance. In any case, it wasn't moving...but maybe that was what had the cows so frightened? The boy squinted, but that really didn't help much. It was just beyond his sight... Maybe he was hallucinating?
"Boy! What're you lookin' at?"
Clay jumped slightly at his father's voice, causing the horse to start a little beneath him. He looked over at his father, and then pointed in the direction of the object that had caught his interest. "It was-"
He stopped in mid-sentence, blinking at the prairie. Clay could no longer see the strange form, though if he'd just lost sight of it (or if it moved) he wasn't certain. Either way, it wasn't on the prairie as far as he could see.
"...Yes?" said Daddy Bailey, a hint of annoyance lacing his voice.
"Well...er...I...lost sight of it, I guess," said the boy, confused.
"Lost sight of what, Clay?"
The boy struggled with the words, eyes searching the general area he was certain that he saw it last. "I...don't know."
There was something going on here, something Clay really couldn't put his finger on. Maybe it was just that the cows' fear had finally invaded his sense of reason or maybe a lack of sleep (for Jesse had had a nightmare and, after he had let her sleep in his bed, had been kicking him periodically the night through,) he really didn't know, but he didn't like it either. An eerie sense of being watched crept over him. But by whom...or maybe even what?
Meanwhile, Daddy Bailey was peering at his son suspiciously. "Clay, did you drink some of last Christmas' eggnog by mistake again?"
--P--
Whump.
Clay sighed.
Footsteps crossed the hall; down the stairs... Things were shifted downstairs...again; more footsteps, and more things being shifted in a different room. Then the footsteps came back up the stairs, and drawers were shifted through...again. Something collided violently with the wall (for the third time that night) only this time it wasn't accompanied with what sounded like a grown man hopping around on one foot while struggling down some grunts of pain.
Night had fallen only half an hour ago, the last of the sun's rays was still peeking over the horizon, and the moon had just barely risen. A few minutes before, when the noises had started, Jesse had barreled into his room, looking like a jackrabbit that had just realized there was a hawk nearby. She wouldn't say what it was that was making her nervous, but she had no need to: the noises outside in the hall were self-explanatory.
Daddy Bailey was looking for something. Neither child knew what, because his words always came in a muffled jumble, even through Clay's cracked open door. It was barely more than five centimeters, but still... As far as they could gather, something had gone missing, something extremely valuable.
Brother and sister looked at each other.
"What d'ya think?" asked Jesse.
Clay shrugged.
"EMMA!" The children flinched when their father's voice invaded their ears. "I'M GETTIN' REEAALLY FRUSTRATED RIGHT ABOUT NOW..."
"Lower your voice, honey. You'll wake the kids and Lily..."
Whether or not their father took their mother's voice into consideration, neither child fully knew. However, he did seem to listen somewhat, for the volume decreased a little, though not enough so as to not be heard by a certain twosome...
"I just don't know how I could've lost sight of it!" said Daddy Bailey's angry voice. There were more noises, which sounded an awful lot like a nightstand being ripped apart. "I mean, I've always got it with me..."
Something in Clay's mind clicked. His thoughts flickered back to after the cattle drive, and dinner...he thought that Daddy had looked a little different then. But the full gravity of the situation came unsettlingly down as though to squash his hat.
He whispered, "The Lone-"
"-Star o' Texas!" finished the man's voice, frustrated.
Jesse's jaw dropped. "The Lone Star is missin'?" she gasped.
Her brother nodded dazedly. Then he blinked as a thought struck him, and eyed his sister in suspicion. "Did you-"
"I never touched it!" snapped Jesse, a little defensively Clay thought, folding her arms. "The first, last, and ONLY time I ever laid fingers on it was the other night!"
Clay looked piercingly at his sister. Unflinching, Jesse met it coolly, possibly countering it with her own inheritance. The two glared at each other for several long seconds, until finally Jesse dropped her gaze to glare at the floor instead. Her eyes narrowed angrily.
"Ah, why do I even bother?" she said with icy resentment. "I shoulda known you'd suspect me. Just like Ma and Pa will..."
Beneath his irritation, Clay felt a ripple of sympathy for his little sister. His eyes softened as he felt the flare of suspicion fade, and he, tentatively, reached over to place a hand on the five-year-old girl's shoulder. She stiffened at his touch, but did not move away.
"They won't blame you, Jesse," he said gently.
Jesse looked far from reassured. She lifted her chin and looked her brother straight in the eye. "Oh yeah?" she asked skeptically. "What makes you so sure?"
"They love you, Jesse."
She snorted. Her blue eyes fixed him with a look that said 'Yeah right'.
"No, they do!" Clay insisted.
The girl looked at him a little longer, then looked away with chilly indifference not befitting a five-year-old. "They'll still blame me," she said bluntly. Jesse glared at her brother. "After all, who would suspect perfect, heroic Clay?"
She said this last part scathingly, and all Clay could do was stare at her in mystified silence. He couldn't understand:Jesse never talked like this. True, he could always detect a little jealousy from her from time to time, but this...this was outright hostility. Where was this coming from? How long had she been harboring these feelings from him...and why were they surfacing now?
Clay then noticed Jesse's eyes shift a little, so that they were looking over his shoulder, and suddenly the hostility slid from her face to be replaced with a blank look; however, her eyes widened considerably with what looked like fear. He blinked, and saw something reflected in her blue orbs. The boy leaned forward a little, and finally discerned what it was: a greenish glow. A little apprehensive, Clay turned slowly around.
A dark shape stood on the roof just outside his windows, looking quite a bit like the thing he'd just seen in the newspaper yesterday. He stared, curiosity flickering in his mind. How'd it get here so fast?
But what really caught his attention wasn't the shape, but something that he'd managed to miss in the photo. Seeing it now, he wondered he'd done that.
Vibrant green was glowing through the windowpane, just where the eyes were.
The - thing, whatever it was...had been shifting past the glass on silent feet (if it even had feet) but it stopped when it noticed the two children in the room, just barely illuminated in the hallway light streaming through the crack in the doorway, though Clay doubted it would've needed the light bulb. Its gaze landed on Clay, and he shivered. He felt like he was under an X-ray.
With what seemed to be disinterest, the thing's line of vision slid over the boy and landed on Jesse. There was a shift from the shadow, which Clay thought was a pair of ears pricking. The emerald-green glow suddenly had a strange shine; it looked a little like curiosity. A paw rose as though to smash through the window and the boy instinctively shoved his sister behind him-
CRASH! "AH, FER-"
The thing flinched back with a low hiss. Its eyes suddenly fixed themselves on Clay's, as though attempting something. A strange feeling was creeping over him, but the thought of Jesse just behind him hardened him against it, and he glared back at it with the beginnings of his own Bailey Glare. The thing emitted a low growl; then it turned and vanished.
Clay breathed out a sigh of relief, only to suck it back in when a pair of hands rammed into his back. "What the-"
The door flew the rest of the way open, and Daddy Bailey was standing framed in the doorway, casting a tall shadow against the bright hall light.
"Clay?" It sounded like the man was doing his best to keep his voice even. "Have you or Jesse seen the Lone Star?"
"Not since this morning, sir, out on the prairie," said Clay immediately. Jesse stood in disgruntled silence next to him.
Daddy Bailey groaned, and began muttering incoherently under his breath.
For several moments, no one said anything else to each other. In this time, the boy's eyes were left to wander, and he noticed something. His father seemed to be favoring one of his legs, and putting most of the weight on the other. He stared; of course, Daddy Bailey wouldn't have complained. In what Clay had gathered through observation, his father never really did like to admit to being injured, not even to Mrs. Bailey.
Almost stupidly, he said, "Daddy, you're hurt."
Daddy Bailey jumped and scowled at his son. "Nonsense," he said brusquely.
Clay opened his mouth to protest, but cut himself off when he heard a voice next to him say, "I could find it, Pa."
Jumping slightly, both Clay and Daddy Bailey stared at Jesse. She was standing straight-backed, and looking perfectly serious. Meanwhile, Clay's jaw was working up and down, trying to filter out a rush of words that had entered his brain. All that was getting out, however, weren't even real words; just half-finished thoughts that were pretending to be. Daddy Bailey remained silent.
"I could find it," Jesse repeated. Clay felt a leaden weight enter his stomach. Of all the times to try and get into Daddy's good graces, she had to pick now? "I know the trail you and Clay ride on, I know how to follow it-"
"Not well enough," Daddy Bailey interrupted bluntly. Clay flinched; he knew Daddy Bailey well enough to know that he spoke out of concern for his daughter. The problem was, Jesse didn't know that, and Clay realized how that comment must have sounded to her.
"Pa, I-"
"If you can find that star, then you must be a coyote's aunt," snorted Daddy Bailey. "You're not going, Jesse." Finality in the man's voice, the door closed in the children's faces.
--P--
The boy was uncertain as to when he'd dropped off, or even when he'd gotten into bed. All he knew was someone was shaking him, whispering his name urgently.
"Clay! Clay!"
Blearily, the six-year-old blinked his way out of slumber, and sat up, yawning widely. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes in vain, Clay blinked tiredly at his awakener. "Wha-wha-wha's up, Daddy?" he asked through a failed attempt of stifling another yawn.
"Good, you're awake." The relief in his father's voice caused the boy to wake up a little more. "Listen: when did ya last see Jesse?"
Clay blinked at this question, trying to think. Then he remembered: right after Daddy Bailey had left the room, Jesse and stormed out after him without a word. As he'd gotten back into bed, Clay had heard her stomping into her own room and slamming the door closed.
"Jus' after you told her not to go lookin' for the Lone Star; why?"
His eyes adjusted to the half light, Clay could see the grim expression on his father's face. "Almost twenty minutes ago... She could be anywhere out there..."
It took only a second, two seconds tops, for Clay to figure it out. He sat up straight, staring at Daddy Bailey as though wishing him to disconfirm his suspicion. "You...you don't think she...think she actually...?" He trailed off with a gulp.
"Went off to look for the Lone Star?"
Clay felt his stomach lurch. "What do we do?"
"'We'?" asked the man. He rubbed his leg, wincing. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right, Clay; with this leg, I'm no use to anyone."
"...Er, in that case," said Clay, trying to sound calm, "what should I do?"
As a reply, Daddy Bailey raised an eyebrow, the mustache twitching slightly. "The only thing you can."
It took him roughly two seconds to find out what indeed he was going to do.
Five minutes later, he was dressed and sitting on a saddled, galloping horse. Silently, he sent a thank you to the half moon above; being out on the prairie alone was more than enough to feel spooked, but in the pitch dark... When he'd gone the length his father had suggested, Clay slowed the horse to a quick trot, calling his sister's name periodically. Each time his call went without an answer, he felt his throat tighten a little more.
When the sound of galloping came to him, he felt hope flare briefly within him. This was tempered, however, when he could see a dark shape coming towards him at speeds beyond Jesse's level of comfort on a horse. Then the flare went out completely when the horse passed by...without a rider. Forcing himself to remain calm, Clay kept going, hoping that perhaps Jesse would remain where she was.
After roughly ten minutes' worth of riding, however, and finding no luck, the boy really became concerned. He couldn't possibly scour the entire prairie...he would if he had to, but no amount of hoping could lift the doubt clouding his mind.
When he could feel the last of his hope leaving, he heard the faint sounds of rushing water. Closing in on the source, he managed to catch sight of a tree, a black figure outlined in silver. Clay whipped out his flashlight and shone it on the tree; next to it was a wide crag, and he realized that one of the streams that fed the river must be running in there. He felt a tiny spark leap up, tempered by fear, when he spotted his sister's hat at the base of the tree. Maybe Jesse was down there...
Scrambling off the horse, he tied it to one of the tree's lower branches, and hurried over to the crag side, flashing the glow of the flashlight down into it. Rocks, large as boulders and small as pebbles were scattered on a slope that went down to the stream below, a steep wall on the other side.
"Jesse?" he called. No answer.
The boy bit his lip, feeling scared. Maybe she couldn't answer... He flicked the flashlight around some more, and froze. Moving the beam over, he saw it again: the glitter.
Frowning, Clay hopped down through the rocks to the glitter, the flashlight beam never leaving it. As he neared, a familiar shape came to his eyes... He hopped down next to it, and grinned at the gold star before him, picking it up.
"Well I'll be a coyote's aunt," he said to himself, looking at the Lone Star wide-eyed. When a raucous started above him, however, he flicked off the flashlight, and quietly made his way back up the rocks quietly, peering over the edge.
The horse was uneasy; it was dancing on the spot, snorting nervously. Clay felt the tension in the air as well; the hair on the back of his neck was standing straight up. And when he heard Jesse's cries, it was all he could do to stay down.
Jesse came vaulting out of the darkness, terrified. On her heels was the cat-thing he'd seen through his window. Jesse was surprisingly fast, but not fast enough; in two bounds, the cat pounced her. By some miracle, the girl managed to wriggle her way out of it's grasp and fled to several feet away from it; she looked tired.
Silently, Clay got out onto level ground, keeping an eye on the cat. He noticed one of its ears flick towards him; not stopping he headed towards the horse. As he began untying it, he saw the head turn and the green eyes land on him, narrowing. When Jesse made a noise, it turned its attention back to her.
Clay was already on the horse and galloping when the cat readied to spring. "Jesse!" he shouted, leaning over with his hand outstretched.
Wide-eyed, Jesse caught his hand and was hauled aboard the horse just as the cat sprang at them; it missed by an inch.
Fighting to remain calm, Clay waited for Jesse to settle herself. "You okay?" he whispered.
She managed a nearly indistinct "Yes" as she took her hat and rammed it back on her head, wrapping her arms around her brother's waist.
In a brief moment, Clay felt a distinct sense of triumph; not only had he found Jesse, but he'd also found the Lone Star! How it had gotten to its location, he wasn't entirely sure, but still he found it. But triumph was replaced with dread as he watched the cat. It stood between them and home; the river was behind them. Clay could just faintly hear it off in the distance.
The cat was bearing down on them; the horse danced nervously beneath him. From behind, Clay could hear Jesse give a few whimpers. He looked around for something, anything, that would help him, but the only idea that came to mind was...
He looked from the horse, to Jessie, to the cat, and decided.
"Jesse," he said warningly, "hold onto me; tight!"
"W-why?" Her voice held an unfamiliar quiver.
"Because," Clay said, taking off his hat, gathering the reigns and turning the horse to face away from the cat, "I'm going to do something I've been told dozens of times not to."
He earned a snort for this. "You? Disobey? Never heard of it," she said. All the same, Clay felt her grip around his waist tighten considerably, almost to the point where he couldn't breathe.
Sighing, Clay closed his eyes, raised his legs as high as he could, and slammed them down as hard as possible into the horse's sides.
The horse reared, whinnying shrilly; Jesse screamed loudly. The cat lunged, and the horse took off like an arrow from a bow. Pounding hoof beats were reverberating around Clay's skull, Jessie was whispering to herself, over and over again, "Don't scream, don't scream, don't scream, don't scream..." and the night scenery around them was passing by in a blur, the wind stinging his eyes if he didn't keep his head bent.
But the cat's yowling was still behind them, keeping with them, in fact. A sense of doom settling in his stomach region, Clay nervously glanced back. The cat was gaining on them, though still several yards away. He could see the green eyes glaring at him as the cat as it caught up, and then fell behind, caught up, and fell behind. But Clay tried not to pay attention to the feeling in his gut; he could hear the sound of rushing water nearing them. The river was close!
In a matter of seconds, he could see it, getting larger and larger much more quickly than Clay remembered from the cattle drives. With any luck, the cat behind them didn't like water.
At the moment, it seemed totally unaware of the upcoming river. The only thing it had eyes for was Jesse.
Beneath him, Clay felt the horse balking. Obviously it didn't want to get wet; but Clay hissed encouragement as best he could into the panicked horse's ears. Without losing speed, the horse tore across the remaining land and leapt, whinnying, in the rushing water.
For a split second, the boy looked to the side. The cat was in mid-air, right next to him, and he was temporarily blinded by the prism of green that filled his eyes. He thought someone was whispering to him, but it was too faint to make out.
The spell was broken when all four hit the water; the shock of cold left his brain briefly numbed. But he was brought back instantly by the earsplitting shriek that emanated next to him. The cat was yowling and floundering around in the water in what seemed like terror. Clay briefly felt like congratulating himself; so the cat didn't like water.
With surprising speed, the cat scrambled out of the water and back onto the bank. Standing knee high in water, the horse panted heavily; Clay gave it a few pats and rubbed its neck. Through the excitement he'd just had, Clay realized that he hadn't been breathing. He tried to suck in a breath and found he couldn't; suddenly he was aware of the bone-crushing grip of the small arms around him. Craning his neck back, he saw Jesse clinging to him like the world was about to end. Looking up at him with wide eyes, she managed a squeak.
"I hate horses."
Clay grinned at her. Then he reached into his pocket and whipped out the Lone Star; he grinned even wider at the shocked look that came across Jesse's face.
Later on, Clay really didn't know what happened next. The cat had uttered a shriek and an orb of green fire was racing towards them. Suddenly, the Lone Star glowed brightly as the fire struck it. Clay expected his hand to be burned, but to his wondering eyes, the Star seemed to have stopped it in mid-air; then the orb, a bright red-gold now, sped straight back to its originator, and the cat screamed when the fire struck it. Next thing he knew, Clay had dug his heels into the horse's sides again with a whoop, and the horse sped right on past.
Throughout the whole eye-stinging journey, Clay didn't look back once. He heard the cat yowling close behind in its hot pursuit, but Clay kept focused on the destination before them. Home was fast approaching, and with each mile the boy felt hope burn a little brighter.
When they entered the yard, there was a flash of light and the horse screamed, even more loudly than Jesse's ear-splitting shriek. Before the horse fell, Clay seized Jesse and flung both her and himself off the animal. The beast scrambled back to its feet and sped, limping slightly, back to the barn. Without hesitation, he half led, half dragged Jesse after it; the cat was closing in, but like the journey, Clay didn't look back.
He could almost feel the cat's breath on his heels; no time to reach the barn. Instead, he made a sharp turn and threw Jessie into a small, somewhat random shed that stood between the house and barn. Daddy Bailey had been talking for some time about taking it down for fire wood or something like that. Right about now, Clay was glad he hadn't yet. The door slammed closed behind them, and Clay was knocked back from bracing it when it shuddered violently from the cat ramming into it.
The creature was snarling violently. Both children screamed when a paw burst through the door, clawing at them. The two pressed themselves against the back wall, the horrifically long claws missing them by a few inches. Through the hole, Clay saw the cat's eyes glaring at them with an angry fire.
Suddenly, Jesse seemed to fall under a spell; her eyes seemed to glaze over, and a look of terror invaded her face. Faint whimpers were leaking out of her throat, and he saw a small tear slip down her cheek. Clay watched in horror as she seemed to go into a seizure; she was twitching uncontrollably, causing him and even the wall they were pressed up against to shiver.
His eyes flickered from her to the cat, and back, and suddenly a light bulb flicked on over his head. Scowling at the cat in open defiance he covered Jesse's eyes. She seemed to come back to herself, and pressed her face against her brother, who in turn buried his face in her hair.
Then a sound of thunder ripped through the night air, and something whizzed through the both walls, just above the children's heads. Clay felt splinters cascade down on his head; he'd no time to put on his hat. The cat growled and paws hurried away, with a few more gunshots following it. Realizing it was gone, Clay let out a choking gasp of relief and fell into darkness.
--P--
When he came to, Clay was immediately aware of blankets, a soft pillow, and being on something undeniably comfortable. Warmth came next, and the aspect that light was creeping through a half-open door. When the voices came, he was only vaguely aware of what they were saying; they came gradually.
"...until he comes to- Clay!"
Clay blinked up in the light, and saw Daddy Bailey standing at his bedside, looking intently at him. Giving a cry of delight, Clay's mother threw her arms around her oldest, covering his cheeks, forehead, and the top of his head with kisses. Clay was extremely relieved when his father intervened, and Emma Bailey left, muttering something about getting soup, but not before beaming proudly at Clay. Daddy Bailey smiled after her, and when he turned his face returned to normal.
Half-expecting to be berated, Clay felt himself cringe slightly. Thusly, his father's words surprised him.
"I knew I could trust you."
Clay looked up at his father, and felt his mouth fall open when he saw his father giving him a small smile. The man then lifted his hand, showing his son the Lone Star.
"Clay, if you were only a few years older, I'd give this to you." Clay felt himself bursting with pride, and it was all he could do to keep himself from screaming praises to the mountain tops.
"However," the man continued, his face falling into a more familiar, stern expression, "you wore out one of my best horses! What were you thinking Clay, that a horse is like a steam engine, it never wears out? Well listen here! The next time you're in dire peril, don't count on the horse!"
Clay deflated slightly with these words. Daddy Bailey turned to leave, but paused in the doorway. "Be sure to tell us when Jesse comes to."
Startled, the boy looked over to a bed situated next to him. Jesse lay there, eyes closed, her breathing even. Clay's head snapped towards the door; Daddy Bailey was standing just outside, talking quietly to Mrs. Bailey. Clay settled back onto the pillows, listening.
"I'm telling you, Emma, our two children are a fearless, wild, reckless pair." Out of the corner of his eye, Clay distinctly saw his father beaming. "I couldn't be prouder."
So...there's Clay. Here we are: one rewrite and a whole lot of hair-pulling later. I had some fun writing the beginning...heh.
The next, last, but certainly not least of the monks' beginnings is...you guessed it: Raimundo! And, I must say, I'm pretty excited on writing him; I've got (in my personal opinion) a very good idea for him.
Review? Please? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?