The Cat

Jess woke with a start. He felt unusually warm, but he was more surprised that he had gone to sleep. Earlier, the pain was so bad he couldn�t have slept if he�d wanted to. Now he felt oddly warm and his leg, although still uncomfortable, was more numb than painful. He lifted his chin and gazed at the sky. The horizon was faintly lighter than the rest of the sky. It must be near dawn. He couldn�t see the moon anymore, but the clouds were thicker and moving fast. Large flakes of snow came down and settled on his upturned face. Jess closed his eyes again and dreamed of a warm day in June.

After daylight, Slim picked up his pace, pushing his horse harder than he normally would. He figured they could rest when they get to the line shack. Right now, every minute could count and he didn�t want to waste one.

The sky was thickly overcast, but Slim could see the glow of the sun through the clouds. It was high in the sky, probably around noon. The shack was less than a mile ahead. Slim spurred his horse to a gallop, pulling Jess� horse behind.

He approached the shack cautiously, gun drawn. He circled it, looking for signs of trouble and then approached the front door. There were a number of steers in the corral, but no smoke from the chimney. He called out, �Jess!�

There was no answer. No sound at all really, except the cattle. Slim swung down and tied his horse to the corral gate. Keeping his gun high, he cautiously opened the front door, calling Jess� name as he did.

Nothing. The cabin was empty except for the bag of supplies Jess had left on the battered wooden table in the center of the room. The stove was unlit. A quick check inside confirmed that it hadn�t been lit in a very long time. Slim walked back outside. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he shouted Jess� name as loud as he could. Getting no response, he held his gun high in the air and fired off a shot.

The shot reverberated off the surrounding hills, but there was no answering shot. After unloading the supplies, Slim re-mounted and turned his horse toward the nearest open land. The only thing left to do was to search.

After about an hour of crisscrossing the terrain, firing off occasional shots, Slim spotted a circling flock of birds in the distance. It could be anything, but at this point, a surge of both panic and hope welled in him. He spurred his horse into a gallop and shot off toward the circling birds.

As he approached the area, Slim could see a dead animal lying in the short grass, covered with scavenger birds, pecking away at the carcass. All at once, Slim was greatly relieved and mildly disappointed. Thank God that wasn�t Jess lying out there, but where the hell was he?

Slim shouted again and then fired a single shot to scare the birds away. He rode up to the carcass. It was a dead steer. It looked as if it had been slaughtered, but not with a knife. It looked like an animal kill. Slim scanned the area, looking for any sign of Jess. The dry brown terrain seemed endless.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Slim spotted something black over by an outcropping of boulders. Jess! Slim spurred his horse and ran toward the outcropping. As he drew closer, he recognized the black object he had seen as Jess� hat. He swung down, dropping his horse�s reins on the ground and ran. �Jess!�

Slim knelt beside Jess, holding back, almost afraid to touch him. Jess�s face was hidden, his hat pulled down. He noticed the bandana wrapped tightly around his lower leg. Slim reached out and touched Jess� shoulder, shaking it gently.

�Jess?� No response.

Putting his hand inside Jess� coat, Slim felt his chest. He was relieved to feel a gentle rise and fall, but he also felt an unusual warmth emanating through his shirt. Slim took Jess� gun and gently unwrapped his limp fingers from around it, setting it on the ground.

Slim took the brim of Jess� hat and tipped it up. Jess� chin was on his chest, his thick black lashes resting on cheeks which were unusually pink. A few large snowflakes balanced on his lashes, and still more fell, landing on his cheeks where they immediately melted. Slim touched the back of his hand to Jess� cheek. Despite the coldness of the air, Jess� face was hot.

Slim lifted Jess� chin and tapped his cheek. �Jess? Can you hear me?�

The lashes quivered slightly, and then finally, slowly, opened to reveal dark blue, watery eyes that shone bright with fever. A faint moan emanated from deep inside.

�Jess! Tell me where it hurts.� Slim spoke loudly and continued gently slapping Jess� cheek with his gloved hand.

Another moan. Jess� eyes were unfocused, but searched out the face hovering inches from his own. �Slim?� The words were faint and slurred, but music to Slim�s ears.

�Yes, Jess, I�m here. Is it your leg?� Slim released Jess� face and moved down to where the bandana was wrapped around his lower leg. He carefully removed it. There was no blood, but the skin revealed by the pushed up pants leg was an angry purple, swollen and unnaturally lumpy. Broken. No doubt.

Slim tried to edge away from the initial panic he was feeling and focus on immediate concerns. Priorities. Seemed to him, the first thing was to get Jess out of the cold and warmed up. Despite the fever, he trembled with chills. The leg was probably the source of the fever and disorientation.

Slim rose and went over to his horse, pulling his canteen off the saddle and bringing it back for Jess. He placed it at Jess� lips and tilted it up, holding it steady for him. Jess drank greedily and Slim finally had to make him stop. Enough for now. More later.

�Jess, I�m going to have to move you. I know it�s gonna hurt, but I need to get you back to the cabin, okay?�

Jess nodded his head weakly. �Leg�s broke,� he managed.

�I know. I�ll fix that too, but first I need to get you out of the cold. I�m going to go build a travois. I won�t be gone long, I promise.� He put the canteen beside Jess and left the lid off, leaning it right up against Jess� thigh.

Jess nodded again, but didn�t speak. His eyes were glazed and eventually drifted shut.

Slim stood and hurried over to his horse, gathering up the lead and swinging into the saddle without even touching the stirrup. As he was looking back, he noticed tracks. Big tracks that looked like a cat. He nudged his horse over closer to the tracks to see better. Mountain lion! And no more than ten feet from where Jess lay. It had moved back and forth several times, and then headed off to the west. Slim followed for a few yards until the tracks veered up to the rocky ground and disappeared. He scanned the cliffs but saw no more sign of it. That must be what killed the steer. Thank God it did, and probably ate its fill. With a silent prayer of thanks, he finally turned and headed the horse toward the cabin and spurred him, the second horse following behind.