Swinging his legs over the edge of the raft, having taken his boots off a few minutes before, Four Way Shot steered the raft down the stream. The stream looked to be crystal clear, beautiful, and every once in a while he'd see a fish swim past. He wished he had brought a hook with him, his father had a small fishing kit in his room and he had been in his room, but he hadn't thought that he might have wanted to catch something to eat. He remembered one time were his father had taken him out fishing, he had caught a fish that his father had called Shasta Trout, when the fish had been cooked he remembered that it was one of the most delicious meals in his life!
Looking to the left saw a bear, a creature he had only seen and read in books and on television. According to what he had read the animal could reach a weight of a thousand pounds, the book had also mentioned that the animal most typically weighed four hundred to seven hundred and seventy pounds. He knew that they had an awesomely scary arsonal of weapons, a lot of muscle and teeth and claws, and he knew how fast they could run, if he was to come in contact with one he wouldn't have had a chance.
"Stay away bear," Four Way Shot said aloud. "please don't come in the water."
The bear must have heard him because it turned around and ran into the trees and bushes. Breathing a sigh of relief, he allowed himself to fall back onto the raft, the water felt really cool and there was a hint of rain in the air. He wished that he still had the bottle of water, he was thirsty and he wouldn't dare drink the water the raft was flowing in. His father had told him once that water in lakes, streams and rivers were at times bacteria ridden and very unhealthy to drink, he didn't feel like getting sick. There was a sound to his left, turning his head slowly he saw the most beautiful animal he had ever seen!
He had seen plenty of deer, at times he would sneak out of his room, tack up his horse and ride out to check out the cows which were allowed to roam freely in a large pasture, one day he had seen a lot of deer grazing beside the cows, it had been a beautiful sight to see! This deer was totally different, it's coat was white and its eyes were red. His father had told him stories about the Native Americans, the story had been called The Ghost of the White Deer and it had been right interesting. He found a lot of the Native American stories interesting and he had checked out as many books about them as he could.
"Oh he's beautiful," Gregg Newby said in awe. "a perfect trophy!"
Gregg Newby was a tall, broad shouldered forty year old with orange hair and blue eyes, in his hand was a Remington Model 7400 hunting rifle, one of his favorites. The gun had a very nice shine to it, like it was brand new, the butt and stock glowed brightly in the little light that fell past the trees, the barrel was long and equally shiny. Stealthily walking forward, keeping himself out of sight, Gregg walked towards the deer, an evil smile crossed his face as he pulled the gun up to his shoulder, the deer was his.
Four Way Shot was so focused on the deer that he hadn't noticed the man until he heard the loud clap of thunder. The deer flopped to its side and he felt some pain, looking down he saw that his shirt was ripped and his arm was bleeding. Pulling his head up, he saw the man and hissed, the man was holding a gun, smoke was coming from the muzzle.
Gregg stopped cold when he saw the boy sitting in the middle of a raft, the boy was close to him but he didn't think that he had hit him, maybe a nick but nothing of which to be worried about, the boy was climbing off of the raft, he tried pulling it in but the water was too strong, the raft was pulled away.
"Hey there," Gregg said.
"Ye killed it!"
There had been a time when he had seen his father pull out a rifle, a Winchester Model 1873 Rifle with a red stock, butt and a black barrel, very powerful and very dangerous. There had been a cow on the ranch, a very sick female cow that had lost her calf, a high dollar calf, and rather risking having everything else in the herd getting sick his father had shot her. He had tried to stop his father several times, not fully understanding why he was going to shoot the cow, and in order to get the job down and to make sure Four Way Shot wouldn't be shot as well his father had shoved him a few feet, had made him fall on his behind in the dirt. After the deed had been down and over with his father had given him a good long talk about why he had shot the cow. A few days after his father had shot the cow he got curious and stole the gun, his father had caught him in time before the trigger had been pulled.
"Yes, yes I did." Gregg said. "Who are you?"
"How many times is I a-gonna say mah name?" Four Way Shot asked, frustrated.
"Alright, alright." Gregg said quickly. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," the boy said. "ye done shot me, but Imma fine."
"You sure," Gregg whispered. "I have a first aid kit in my truck..."
He stopped when the boy turned his head towards him, he saw great distrust and a little bit of anger in his eyes. Pulling his hand to his head, he took off his hunting cap. Sitting down on a rock he watched as the boy kneeled down beside the deer. He didn't know exactly what to say. Clearing his throat loudly, he reached forward and touched the boy's shoulder.
"Boy," Gregg said. "this isn't the best place for you, I am sure your parents would want you back at their camp."
"Mah pa ain't here," Four Way Shot said. "he's in Cali For Nay."
Turning his head slightly, Four Way Shot looked at the man's hands, he did not like that the man had touched him. Inside he felt great anger, he wanted to pull out one of his guns but he restrained himself. He had limited ammunition, enough to shoot each of his guns twice, not enough to go crazy on.
"You hungry son?" Gregg asked.
Turning around, Four Way Shot saw that the man was pulling out a small box, having had nothing to eat in a few hours he was slightly interested. His fathers words rang through his ears, not to take nothing from strangers. The man was pulling out what looked to be a few slices of cheese and some crackers.
"No thanky." Four Way Shot said, he didn't know he had said a thing until the man looked up.
"How long have you been away from home?" Gregg asked.
"I dunno," Four Way Shot sighed. "feels like forever."
"I ran away from home twice," Gregg said. "once when I was fourteen and the second time was when I was sixteen."
"Did ye git caught?" Four Way Shot asked.
Gregg looked up sharply, the boy had seated himself beside him and he had taken off his hat and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. Smiling warmly, he handed the boy a plate with three ham and cheese crackers. The boy gave a wicked smile, his cheeks rose high and his chin dropped low showing really white teeth, and grabbed one of the crackers.
"Yes, everyone is caught." Gregg sighed.
"Whut'd yer pa do to ye?" the boy asked.
"The usual," Gregg said. "I was whipped and grounded, for a right long while."
"Oh," the boy said. "a-why did ye run away?"
"My parents never did pay all that mind to me," Gregg said between mouthfuls. "I thought that me running away would get their attention."
"I a-runned away from home cuz I a-wanted to see Texas."
Lifting his head up and smiling a little Gregg remembered the time when he had said he was going to run away to join the circus. His mother had said nothing when he had said it and his father had been asleep at the time. He had been eight years old at the time. He would have gone too hadn't his aunt have been babysitting the next day.
"Are you an only child?" Gregg asked.
"Nah," the boy said. "I gots a lil' bro, Arson, he done runned away to."
"Both of you ran away from home?" Gregg asked shocked. "How old are you and your brother?"
"Imma nine," the boy said, wiping his mouth clean with his hand. "mah bro is five."
"You do know that one of these days your dad will catch up to both of you." Gregg said, it wasn't a question, it was a fact.
"O' course," the boy said quickly. "mah bro an' I both know that."
Picking himself up and dusting the seat of his pants, Four Way Shot waved goodbye to the man and continued his journey. He knew that one of these days his father was going to track him down, he had a good sense of direction and he knew his son well enough. Reaching into his shirt he pulled out his kerchief, it had the same design as his fathers but it was a totally different color, it was brown. Pushing a branch out of his way he stopped cold, in front of him was a train. Remembering his promise to his brother, he ran over and climbed into one of the cars.
