"Tully! Get out of there!!" All the lightning reflexes that had made him a successful commando took over.
Bursting from the bushes, suitcoat in hand, Moffitt pushed Tully, and grabbed up the spitting animal. Bundling it in the material, he threw it unceremoniously into the bushes.
Grabbing the boy's arm, he pulled him onto his hip, and ran back the way he came, snatching the water can as he passed.
He didn't stop until the only skunk they could smell was on themselves.
Shaking, Moffitt lowered the boy to his feet, and dropped the can. He fell back against a tree and sank to the ground.
Tully sank to his knees and looked into Jack's eyes with amazement.
"Mister Jack! I never seen anyone that fast!!" Moffitt's labored breathing was all the answer the boy got. Tully began tugging at Jack's sleeve.
"Mister Jack? Mister Jack! Your sui'coat is ruined. Ain't nothing goin' get the polecat stink out."
Jack smiled.
"I didn't think I would get it back." The soft, doe eyes grew even wider.
"Mister Jack! You ruined your nice coat on purpose?"
"Well," Moffitt leaned his head back against the tree, "it's a little more complicated than that."
He jerked upright and looked all around.
"My valise! Where is it?" He fell back with a groan and pinched his nose.
A timid tap on his knee.
"Mister Jack, I think I'm bleedin'."
"Where?!"
"I scraped my knee when you pushed me to the ground." He said it as a matter-of-fact, he wasn't upset. But Moffitt still felt guilty.
"Let me have a look." Jack rolled up his shirt sleeves and unfastened his tie.
The scrape wasn't too serious, just some missing skin. Jack cleaned it as best he could and bandaged it with the silk tie.
"Do ya still want the water, Mister Jack?"
"A wise suggestion, Tully. We'd better shake a leg to make it before those clouds turn nasty." Shoving himself to his feet, Jack offered little Tully his hand. Together, they headed off.
"Ya know mister Jack, I was a mite hungry. But now we both smell like skunk, I don't want anything."
"I couldn't agree more, Tully."
"Here we are, Mister Jack! The best crick this side of the mountains."
It was a handsome "crick", wide and burbling. A tall man, with much effort, could straddle the opposite banks, but the water level was too low to reach by hand.
The warning clouds had rolled past, and now dark, ominous clouds hung overhead.
Jack smoothed over his hair with one hand while he gazed upwards.
"I've no idea what time it is, but I imagine evening is coming on. We'd best get this over and make tracks to the car."
Tully had found a new stick and was busy whipping the heads off dandelions. He looked up curiously,
"Mister Jack, why is it you talk so funny?" He blushed and ducked his head a little. "What I mean is, sir, I've heard people from Virginny, from both Carolinas, e'en Texas once, but I never hear'd anyone talk like you."
"No, I wouldn't think so." Moffitt affirmed absently. He was studying the banks of the creek.
"I jus' wondered where you was from." Tully shrugged.
Jack wore a preoccupied frown, but he answered,
"Well, at the moment I'm living at Cambridge, but my family home is in-"
"What kinda bridge, sir?"
"Eh, what?" Moffitt broke from his thoughts, "A bridge?" He snapped his fingers, "Of course, a bridge! Tully, is there a bridge over this cri-, uh, creek?"
Tully looked baffled.
"Well, yessir, there's an old fallen tree a ways downstream."
"Excellent! I'm sure I can use it to reach the water. Are you coming?"
Tully whipped the head off a weed.
"No, Mister Jack, I'll jus stay on this bank and wait for ya."
"Don't fall in," Moffitt teased.
A brisk wind was picking up. The wind before a storm. It couldn't have been any later than 4:00 in the afternoon, but a premature darkness came seeping through the trees. The air was thick with the heady smell of raw earth. Jack shuddered without his coat.
The felled log that served for a bridge wasn't much wider than Moffitt. Barely a fit man's shoulder span. But, lying down, Jack knew he could reach the canister into the churning water.
A chill ran up Moffitt's back, and he realized it had finally begun to rain. A fine, misty rain that was getting stronger all the time. Cold drops traced his cheek, and ran down his shirt collar.
The log seemed sturdy enough, but Jack wasn't taking chances. He eased his way down onto the tree.
Rough bark scraped his skin through the tears in his shirt.
The water was running fast underneath him. Inky black, rushing and tumbling head over heels. He gripped the handle and plunged his arm down into the icy brook.
He almost let go from the shock of the cold. Tremors shook his body.
The canister couldn't fill fast enough for Jack, but eventually it was. He pulled the half-frozen arm from the water, and struggled to lift it up.
The rain was falling thick and fast now. All traces of the pleasant, shining day were gone. Cold, heavy drops ran through his black hair, down his face. Pelted the back of his neck, and went through his thin shirt.
A crack of light and throbbing crash of thunder rent the evening air close by. A tree ripped and splintered, plunging through the air. Groaning and crashing to the forest floor.
A young scream froze the blood in Moffitt's veins.
Something hit the water upstream.
Moffitt watched the water below with expectant dread. The current was already rising and flushed with new rain.