The Feet of God

16 - HAPPY TRAILS

It was a quick trot from the intersection of Fabulous Gorda Fortuna to where Bob and Rufus was waiting.  Much to my surprise they was outside the pink Cadillac and leaned up against the back fender and not splayed about in the backseat.  I figured Rufus to be a quick draw.

“Well, according to the locals, they never heard of a Remington place,” I pointed up to a pillar of dust rising above the tree line, “but I figure that might be a clue.”

“Yeah, we noticed it, too,” Rufus spoke while we all squinted into the late morning sky.  “Come on, I know an old logging road that goes out that way.”  He opened the driver’s side door and hopped in with Bob while I dashed to let myself in the back.  Rufus revved the engine.

We drove out about a half mile or so then dipped down onto an uneven furrowed dirt lane.  Like most logging roads, the roadbed itself was one narrow pathway that’d been worn down into the ground leaving an embankment on either side.  This caused a trapped feeling as the trail climbed hills, dropped down across little streams and headed straight toward the growing columns of dust in front of us.

I hung onto the armrest as our angle increased, “Sure are a lot of little dirt roads around here.”

“Sure are,” Bob agreed.  “These hills are crisscrossed with old logging trails and some of the original wagon ruts of settlers.  Before people had trucks the folks here got around from mining town to logging camp to sheep ranch all along these trails.  Now people stick to the paved roads, and these dirt trails don’t lead much to anything anymore.”

“Yeah, well, this trail just ran out,” an angry Rufus hit the brakes and banged his fists on the driver’s wheel.  A wide ravine divided the trail in two.  “We’ll have to hike,” Rufus got out and emphatically slammed the car door.

It had to be over 93-fuck’n-degrees in the shade right now, and a vertical climb laid in front of us.  I was having serious second thoughts about getting involved in Ma’s plans.  Here I was, somewhere where I didn’t wanna be, not knowing what I was doing, getting mixed up in things I probably did not wanna get mixed up in.  Hell, I might even end up getting shot at.  Why can’t life be simple?  Reluctantly I got out of the car’s backseat and started to follow.  It might’a helped if I could believe my two partners knew where they was going, or what they was gonna do once they got there.

We ascended what was left of the old dirt trail.  That was followed by switchback after dogleg, rising up and down, then around and around.  I was sweaty and tired but thankful for any areas with shady trees that hadn’t been clear cut.

Bob and Rufus was a bit in front of me when they suddenly halted their progress.  Bob turned and put a raised finger to her lips.  “Shhhhh,” Bob whispered, “look, there’s a baby deer.”

I tried to pant and wheeze as quiet as possible.  In a nearby meadow I could make out a tiny brown shape as it stood stark still, staring out with huge brown eyes like melted Milk Duds.  But those eyes wasn’t trained on us.

We heard a sharp whistling sound moments before that little deer burst into a pink cloud of venison shrapnel.

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