Ch. 4.
"Murdoch won't be happy knowing you sneaked out during the night!"
His serious toned voice brought me out of the darkness behind my eyes. I opened one eyelid to find Johnny Madrid leaning over his horse smiling at me.
"Does it look like I care about how your father feels?" I pushed myself up against the tree and rubbed my arms. Johnny slid off his horse and knelt beside the burned out fire.
"You should. He is the one keeping you out of prison."
"Never asked him too." I pushed past Johnny and swung up on Luna. Johnny sighed and pushed his hat back, placing his hands on his hips.
"Have you always been stubborn or do you just not like accepting help from people?"
I swung Luna back toward the Lancer farm. Orange sun rays graced the sky.
"I don't know Madrid, have I?" He was left standing in dust as Luna galloped off.
It seemed Johnny was the only one who knew of my midnight ride. Mr. Lancer and his sons along with a dozen ranch hands rode off in search of the stolen cattle. I lay in the newly made bed listening to the young woman Teresa hum a song while cleaning dishes. My body began to drift off to sleep when I heard a dog bark and then a pot smash. The humming ceased while the dog bark continued.
I could not tell you how I made it so quickly to the ground floor or how I found myself between a rabid dog and the young woman Teresa, but there I stood with a log in my hand ready to defend my "prison guard". Her hands gripped my shirt as the drooling mongrel slowly stepped forward. I swayed side to side beating the log into my right hand; under my breath I whispered "come on". I knew inside the rifles were locked up, but yet had not found where the key was hidden.
"Teresa. I need you to slowly walk inside and get me a rifle." I could feel her tremble as she released my shirt and started toward the door. It watched her, its' head bobbing up and down. The bald headed, gray animal looked back at me. Its' eyes blood shot, white foam crested around its' dry mouth. I knew before it happened that the animal was going to attack. I brought the log down upon its' back, a sharp cry resonated in the courtyard.
"Come on!" I yelled. It turned sharply, causing me to stumble on a rock. The log held it at bay. I watched the jaws snap open and closed inches from my face, the sharp claws attempting to scratch my chest. Then from within, a feeling of anger and fear exploded from my arms. I threw the beast off and jumped on top, holding the log under its' neck. Its' naked body wriggled against mine as I choked the life from its' body. Throwing the limp body down, I stood up and brushed the dust off. Teresa stood in the doorway holding, with her trembling hands, the rifle I needed. I walked toward her hand out reached, but she raised it.
I saved her life and now she was going to kill me? Did she not realize that I was no threat? Her lip trembled and she pointed behind me. I heard grunting and coughing so there was no need to turn my head. The beast had come back to life, ready to take me with it to the depths of hell. I walked quicker to Teresa and pulled the rifle from her hands. By the time I turned around, the animal had begun its' slowly death march toward us. I racked a round into the chamber and fired. It pierced the flesh above the heart, but the beast continued the march. Again I fired, fear creeping into my mind. Again, the beast did not falter. With Teresa, clinging onto my shirt and the fear that this beast, no, this demon would not stop, I emptied the remaining bullets into the body until the demon bled from everywhere. To ensure our safety, I then took my thick wooden log and smashed the head of the creature in. With each smash, my mind flashed back to the day of living with my uncle. His axe swinging down, striking the poor animal. The cries filled my mind as well as tears filling my eyes. I dropped the log upon the bloody mess and walked away. Teresa's voice calling me in the back ground. I stood taking slow deep breaths attempting to calm myself. A small hand fell softly on my shoulder, I looked at it briefly before shrugging it off and walking back toward my room.
Entering the house, the steel chain which connected the gun rack was still unlocked. The beautiful rifles waiting for someone to pick them up and shoot them. I turned back toward the stairs which led to my room, returning my eyes to the now locked rack before heading up the stairs. My head hit the pillow just as the sound of horses entered the ranch.
"Cricket! Cricket!" I remember seeing him running toward the barn. Uncle Dillard was in the barn, he despised Cricket. Called him unspeakable names and told me if he ever caught the dog messing around the chickens again he would kill him. Uncle Dillard drank, he drank more when Aunt Lilly died. She was his and now I was his, but Cricket was mine. I remembering running to the barn. I stepped in hearing my puppy cry. Uncle Dillard took the axe above his head and swung it down. I saw the blood splatter and the puppy cry again. I took the shovel and smashed it down on his shoulder. He swung around, the butt of the handle smashed into my head leaving a gash. He stumbled out of the barn dropping the bloodied instrument of death. I crawled over to my dog. His brown fur stained red from head to toe, deep gashes slashed open his stomach revealing his entrails. Cricket attempted to raise his head when he saw me, tears flooding out when we connected eyes. He was a pup my dad bought, the last connection I had to my family, stolen away from a man who called himself my uncle. I held the dog's head and told him how much I loved him. One last kiss from him, one last kiss from me. My hand slid to his neck, it was over in a few seconds; no struggle, no more pain. I buried him under the rose bushes that Aunt Lily planted years back.
Footsteps echoed up the stairs, I looked up to see him standing there.