CHAPTER 67
Dan looks over his front sites to see if he hit the wolf. An exploding dust cloud indicates a miss, striking earth beneath the largest gray wolf he has ever seen.
"I got yew now, yew grand fella," the crafty trapper declares, cocking his rifle.
He lines his front sight up with the wolf and aims above his right ear.
Trapper Dan takes a long deep breath, then exhales slowly. He rests his finger on the trigger and adds steady pressure.
"A little Kentucky vindage to send you to Valhalla."
"Do you see what he's shooting at?" Beau asks Limpy.
Limpy scans the ridgeline and spots Kiowa. Unable to control himself, he jerks forward and starts barking. Beau does not see Kiowa but follows suit anyway. The eruption surprises Dan, causing him to jerk the shot.
BOOM!
The bullet's impact is close enough to kick dirt and debris up in Kiowa's face, but again, the great trapper who summons thunder with a stick has missed his target. Kiowa squints and looks away but remains motionless. Instead of cutting out like a coward, Kiowa takes a brave stance and proudly displays his courage.
"Simmer down!" Trapper Dan shouts at the little terriers. The hunter swiftly pulls the lever ring and cycles the action. He realigns his square front sight. As back sights align with front, Dan squints his aiming eye and closes his other eye. He begins to squeeze the trigger and allows the wolf to come into focus.
"Yew sure is a pretty volf," he says, admiring Kiowa's stature and features.
As he prepares to feel the trigger click and the rifle kick, he sees the wolf do something he's never seen any animal do in all his years of trapping.
"Is he smiling at us?"
Dan blinks several times and opens both eyes. He shades his eyes with his hand just to be sure he's seeing what he thinks he's seeing.
"V'hy the devil are you mocking me?"
Up on the mountaintop, Kiowa sits perfectly still.
"My magic is strong. You could never shatter my courage. It is in my heart!" Kiowa hisses through clenched teeth.
"Your goose is cooked," Beau shouts back in a thick Scottish accent.
BOOM!
gain, Dan misses; it is a long shot, and the bullet's trajectory is blown off course by the canyon's side winds.
A lone ember tickles down from the weapon's top chamber and slips into the black powder cylinder.
WHA BOOM!
The rifle explodes and sends packed projectiles out the back of the gun and right through Trapper Dan's hand.
"ARRRGGGHHH!"
"On this day I have proven thunder sticks are for cowards!" Kiowa says as he turns around and maneuvers into the canyon. "Now it is my turn to use my weapons!"
Dan holsters his rifle. He claws at his shirt. He untucks it and tears a piece of fabric off, then wraps his wounded hand. He squares himself up and draws his pistol in his good hand.
"Giddyap," Dan says, kicking at Betty's sides. Seeing the wisdom in the wolf's elevated position, he shouts at his horse, "Ve gotta get closer!"
What he doesn't know is that his catastrophe was a master's move. Hunter and pack are now separated by a mile or more.
As Betty carries her master way up the steep canyon switchbacks, the terriers climb on top of her head to gain a better vantage point. "All this better be worth my new saddle," Betty complains to her best friend, Beau.
The little dogs point and then bark to greet Tater and Chili as they run up.
"Did Master kill the wolf?" Tater asks Beau.
"No," Beau responds.
"Did he see the wolf?" Chili wonders, running right behind Betty.
"We both saw him!" Limpy boasts, wagging his clipped tail. "He's bigger than any wolf we've ever seen."
"What should we do?" Tater ponders, hopping up and down excitedly.
"Get out in front of Master and let him know when you see the wolf. He will shoot him the instant you alert him, because Master is the best!"
Chili pants and looks around for water. The blazing sun makes him feel light-headed.
"I think we'll stay right here with you. Maybe Master will give us water."
"Don't vorry, boys. Ve brought das cavalry. Dis wolf ain't gonna stand no chance." Dan lifts his bugle horn to his dry lips and blows as he closes in on Kiowa's cave.
Kiowa moves down into the canyon and toward the ambush point. Across the canyon, Walpi sees the action and drops down from his side to quickly reunite with Kiowa.
Now atop of the canyon, Dan hears more than one wolf howling and yipping. He hurriedly dismounts and reaches into his leather saddle pouch to remove a brass spyglass. With great difficulty, he somehow manages to extend it one-handed.
"Oh my goodness. Oh my gracious. Der's more dan von volf." He moves the eyepiece back and forth and spots Kiowa and Walpi linking up. The hulking odd-shaped objects stand out in stark contrast to their red rock surrounding.
He holds up his fingers, counts to two, and tries to calculate his bounty using his limited education. "Let's see, two times two hundred is two hundred and tventy." His eyes widen at the thought of such riches. He eagerly runs his hand over his handlebar mustache and pats his wounded hand. The realization that more profit exists soothes the wound.
"I've got to get das boys back here now," Trapper Dan concludes. He dismounts Betty, points his pistol in the air, and hastily fires, signaling the pack to return to the master.
Unfortunately, the .44 Texas Walker Ranger Colt is much louder than his rifle and is positioned entirely too close to Betty's ear. The percussion nearly blows her eardrum out.
"OWWWIIIIIEEEE," Betty shrieks, jerking several feet and wincing from the pain.
Unaware, Dan continues to fire, ensuring his brood's return.
Betty panics and instinctively jerks away. She tries to distance herself from the hand cannon but neglects to look behind her. Her hooves teeter on the flaking sandstone edge.
"Whoa, Betty!" Beau tries to calm his friend, but the horse's ears are damaged and ringing so badly she can't hear him.
Limpy leaps for Betty's reins. His little mouth snatches a mouthful of leather strap. He strains his tiny heart, tugging backward on the reins as hard as he can, but even his best efforts feel like nothing to Betty.
Betty takes one last step back. Her wobbling hoof slides on a curved and crumbling ledge. The horse tries to correct, but her metal shoes can't grip the sandy rock. Her hind legs slip out from underneath her and her bulging belly slams against the ledge. She thrusts her front hooves out, clawing at the earth as half her body dangles over the edge. With every ounce of desperate strength left, she strains to gain traction. But it's too late!