10.  IN TOWN

            When I woke up the next morning, I wondered why there was a stranger sleeping in my lean-to.  Then I remembered what happened yesterday and last night.  Randy.  I got to my feet, picked up my knife under my blanket, and headed down to the lake with Hesperus to do some fishing.

            As I rowed the boat out to the weedy spot where I fished, I remembered the wish I’d made that long night on the mountain trying to sleep in the rain.  Now that I had my wish, I guess there was something to be said for camping alone.  Randy seemed nice enough, but I had to admit that he was kind of creepy.  I couldn’t do whatever I wanted now, and I certainly wasn’t going skinny-dipping anymore.

            I tied a red-and-white spoon lure on my fishing line, cast, and idly reeled it back through the weeds.  Randy soon appeared on the rocks and waved.  Then I was surprised when he waded, fully dressed, in the water to swim.  I rowed over to the point to meet him, Hesperus barking at him and rocking the boat in excitement.

            “It’s gonna be a hot day,” Randy said when I neared shore.  “Water feels good, though.  Got any fish?”

            “They weren’t biting.”  I looked down at him in his dirty white T-shirt, his hair plastered wetly to his head, his wide, big-toothed grin.  “Come on in.  See those rocks out there? 

They’re great to dive off of.”

            Randy looked at the boat, wide-eyed.  “No thanks.  I’m not too big on boats.”

“What?” I jeered.  I felt like a brat, but it was great to catch Randy in his lie.  “The intrepid fisherman is afraid of a little rowboat?  What would your captain think of his first mate now?”

            “That was a long time ago,” Randy said quickly.  “I’ve had all I can take of boats.  So how ‘bout breakfast?”

            I noticed how quickly he changed the subject and decided to drop it, too.  I pulled the boat up under the trees and followed Randy’s soggy figure as he strode barefooted over the pine needles to the lean-to.

            “Hmm.”  Randy pawed through his backpack and tossed things aside, his dripping clothes making a puddle on the floorboards.  “Nope, it’s just as I thought.  Here’s my stove, and nothing to cook on it...ah, but here are some little packets of ketchup!”    

            “Randy, I’m not eating ketchup.  Now, let’s see that stove.”  He watched me as I picked up the rabbit that he tried stealing the day before, skinned and gutted it, and began cooking it on the little propane stove. 

            “Where’d a girl like you learn to do that?”

            “What do you mean, a girl like me?” I snapped, glaring at him.  “My dad taught me.  He’s a hunter.”

            “Oh.”

            “Look...Randy, why do you want to stay here with me, anyway?  I wasn’t exactly welcoming.”

            He shrugged.  “It gets boring traveling alone sometimes, with no one to talk to.  I saw you, just another kid, with no adults around to turn me in for being a runaway.  You looked like a safe bet.”

            “For what?” I said nervously.

            “Company.”  He said the word simply and went to the lake for water.  I finished cooking the rabbit, Randy supplied his ketchup, and we feasted on our breakfast sitting on the lean-to step.

            “I’m out of everything, though,” Randy said.  He popped a piece of rabbit in his mouth and talked with his mouth full.  “I need more propane, matches, and food...so I’ll be headin’ to town today.  Wanna come?”

            “Town?”

            “Yeah, town.  You don’t know about Buck Creek?”

            I frowned.  “I’ve heard of it.”

            Randy shrugged.  “Well, there you go.  It’s just a couple miles out of the woods, then about three miles down the road.  There’s a diner, and a little general store, a few motels and some souvenir stores for tourists.  So...”

            “Sounds like fun,” I said.  We finished eating and got ready to leave.

            Randy told me to turn my back while he changed his shirt.  I laughed.  “Honestly, Randy, you don’t think I’ve ever seen a boy’s chest before?”

            “Just do it, OK?” he snapped.  “Do you have to make a big deal of everything?”

            I shrugged and did as he told me, and picked through my backpack for clean clothes.  I thought it was sort of funny that he swam fully dressed, too.  Was the guy a prude, or what!

            Randy sent me out of the lean-to so he could change his pants, so I brushed Stormwind for awhile.  I decided to bring her with us because I was afraid to leave her alone with the foal due any day now.

            Remembering the radio announcement that described Hesperus, Stormwind, and me, I scooped up a handful of soot from the fireplace and drew big black spots on Stormwind’s body.  I stepped back and inspected her critically, then smiled.  She looked like a spotted circus pony.

            Randy walked over and stared at Stormwind.  “Disguise?”

            “Yeah.”  I grinned.  “Do you think the people in Buck Creek can tell the difference between an Arabian and an Appaloosa?”

            “I can.”  He touched one of the spots and looked at the smear of black on his finger.  “Kat, anyone who knows horses can tell that’s no Appaloosa.  Just an Arab with fake spots.”

            “Where’d you learn so much about horses?”  I called as I went in the lean-to to get cleaned up.

            “Never mind,” he said quickly.  I looked over my shoulder and saw him staring off into the woods, like he was remembering something.

            In minutes I was ready and, like Randy, I wore my empty backpack to fill with supplies.  I tied Hesperus to the lean-to to guard everything - I didn’t think she’d run off, but I didn’t want to take any chances.  She followed me to the end of the rope as I untied Stormwind and led her away.  “No, stay,” I told Hesperus.  “We’ll be back later.”  Hesperus lay down and sighed, resting her head on her legs as she watched me leave.

            I found Randy in the clearing picking raspberries.  “I love raspberries,” he told me as we headed for the creek, the outlet of the lake that he said led straight to the road.  “I’ve lived on raspberries a few times.  There’s nothin’ better than wild raspberries!”

            We tramped through the woods bordering the creek, snapping twigs underfoot and pushing aside sapling branches.  Our silence grew uncomfortable, so I told Randy all about Stormwind, just to start a conversation.

            “...Her owner, Lorraine Stillwater, was this crazy old woman with a gun.  She had some others, too - horses, I mean, not guns.  But you know something funny?  When she wanted to shoot me that day - I told you about that, didn’t I?  Anyway, she mentioned something about her daughter.  I didn’t know she had one...”

            As I babbled on brightly about Stormwind’s story, I noticed that Randy had that strange dreamy look on his face again.  He stared at the ground and didn’t say a word as we followed the creek, climbing over fallen trees and detouring around boulders and tangled saplings.

            The creek brought us out to a winding mountain road that Randy said led to town.  We left the dim woods for the road’s narrow, crumbling shoulder.  I began to sweat in the hot sun as we trudged down the road.  Cars and tractor-trailers shot past us, whipping our hair around and clouding us with exhaust fumes.

            We passed some old farmhouses and vacation cottages here and there, but mostly woods and mountains.  The road led along a lake for awhile, where people fished from canoes and motorboats.  Once, we faced a bridge one car-lane wide, crossing a narrow part of the lake.  Stormwind balked and skittered over the pavement, and it took us awhile to coax her across that bridge.

            “Too bad we’re leading Stormwind,” Randy said as we continued on. “We could

hitchhike.”

            “Are you crazy?” I said.  “It’s too bad we didn’t have a car.  Our own, I mean.  My dad taught me how to drive a year ago, on this old farm road on our land.  He’s going to buy me a car as soon as I turn sixteen, you know, and -”

            “Daddy’s girl,” Randy muttered.

            “I am not!”  A logging truck rumbled by, chains clanking, and Stormwind shied and pranced.  “I’m not Daddy’s girl.  I have real problems with his girlfriend, and he doesn’t pay any attention.  You’re the luckiest person I know.  Living on your own, doing whatever you want, going wherever, not going to school.  I’d love to be you.”

            “No you wouldn’t!”  Randy spun around and glared at me, oblivious to a car whose occupants gawked at Stormwind and us.  “You don’t know what it’s like to be me.  It’s not as great as you think.”  He stared down at the hot pavement under our boots and rubbed the scar on his face, silent for the rest of the walk.

***

            Stormwind caused a commotion wherever we went.  As I led her down the sidewalk, cars slowed so their passengers could stare and point.  People in their front yards or porches stopped whatever they were doing to gawk as if they didn’t know what kind of an animal she was, and little kids and grown-ups alike rushed over to pet her.  I got a few dirty looks for bringing a horse into town, but most people seemed surprised, excited...and very annoying.

            I had to discourage people from petting her, though.  Not only because Stormwind got nervous and snapped at a few people, but also everyone had smeared most of her spots into dirty gray smudges.  They stared from Stormwind to the soot left on their hands, and some even asked me why I’d made her up with spots.

            We found the diner Randy told me about, and I tied Stormwind to a tree behind the building, out of sight of the sidewalk.  An air-conditioned breeze swept over my sweaty skin as we went in the crowded diner.  The scent of cooking food wafted from double doors under a chalkboard announcing the day’s specials.  Barbecued ribs!  The Hamburger Platter!  Spaghetti and meatballs!  Chocolate pie!  My stomach rumbled at the thought of such food, tired of its usual offerings of raspberries and wildlife.

            The waitress showed us to a varnished wooden booth under a stuffed-and-mounted Northern pike.  The diner’s pine walls were covered with photos of the lakes and mountains.  More mounted fish hung here and there on wooden plaques.

            Randy and I wandered around inspecting the pictures and fish as we waited for our orders.  People stared at us rudely.  Didn’t they ever see backpackers before?  Did we really look that odd?  I barely resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at them.

            We sat back down and I stared as Randy counted out a wad of bills.  “Where did you get all that money?”

            “Oh, I do odd jobs,” he said.  “Washin’ cars, weeding gardens, you know.  People will pay for anything.  But just the men, you know.  Women look scared and slam the door in my face.  Maybe they think I’m going to rob ’em.  The same thing always happened to Jake -” He suddenly broke off.

            “Who’s Jake?” I asked.

            “Oh, uh, just a person,” he said.  “Oh look, our food’s here.”

            We dug into our cheeseburgers and fries.  I forgot all about our conversation as I drank my root beer and ate the delicious juicy burger in the toasted bun.  As I chewed one of the French fries, soft and hot under its crispy shell, I wondered if I could call this my first date.

            Randy paid for both of our meals, and we went back outside into the unwelcoming humid day.  I checked on Stormwind - undisturbed and dozing in the shade - then hurried to catch up with Randy in the general store.

            He paid for his things and loaded his backpack.  I bought so much food that I could barely zip my bulging pack around it all.

            Outside, we passed an empty bar with “for sale” signs in the windows, an antique shop, and a souvenir store.  We went inside.  There were cowboy boots and hats for sale, lots of T-shirts, ashtrays and plates and pictures and paperweights, all with a sailboat or woodland picture and “Buck Creek, New York” emblazoned across them.

            It wasn’t long before Randy turned around and knocked his big backpack into a display rack.  About 100 postcards skittered across the floor as the rack fell with a clatter.  Humiliated, we knelt to pick them up until the clerk appeared.  She told us she’d take care of it, but the look on her face said it would be best if we leave.

            So, red-faced, we left the store, untied Stormwind, and stopped at a convenience store that sold make-your-own sundaes.  I loved ice cream the way Randy loved raspberries.  We ordered, and stood out front eating our ice creams and fending off peoples’ advances toward Stormwind.  From every car that pulled up to the gas pumps came the excited squeals, “Oh, look at the horse!”  It was inevitable.

            I noticed that most people had smiled at us and said nice things about Stormwind.  So I guess we weren’t expecting what happened next.

            A large pickup truck with a gun rack in the window came careening up to a gas pump and stopped with a jolt.  Everyone - tourists and locals - stopped and stared as the chugging engine and blaring country music were shut off and a big bearded man slammed the door, pumped his gas, and stalked toward us.  He wore camouflage clothes and big black boots that laced up to his knees.  He was about six feet tall, with the body of a weight lifter.  He glared at everyone and mumbled under his breath.

            Without realizing it we moved out of his way, noticing the others doing that too.  Reaching the door, the man leaned over us and bellowed in our faces.  “What is that horse doing in the middle of town?”  We were too stunned to answer.

            He chuckled through his bushy black beard and ran his fingers over his greasy hair, cursed as Stormwind pinned her ears at him.  He turned and disappeared into the store.

            Instantly the silent people around us started whispering among themselves.  “Vito,” Randy muttered.  “That has to be Vito.”

            “Do you know him?” I whispered back.

            “Everybody in town knows about Vito!” Randy said.  “The other day I overheard some locals talking about him in the diner.  He was in prison not too long ago - he beat somebody almost to death because they owned him money and didn’t pay him back.  Nobody knows his last name - they say he’s known only as Vito.”

            We overheard a lady scolding Vito in the store.  “You should be ashamed of yourself, making such a fuss about the horse in town.  They are only children.”

            “Oh, shut up, you fat cow.”  He stomped back outside and everyone’s whispering ceased.  This time he only glared into our faces for a full minute before he swaggered back to his truck with his case of beer and packet of chewing tobacco.  I could still smell his stink of old sweat and motor oil as he revved his engine in fury.  He was trapped by cars all around him, their owners pumping gas or paying for it.  “Get outa my way!” he bellowed, laying on the air-horn on his truck.  “Yeah, you with the Toyota - let’s get moving here!”

            “Call the police!  Vito’s causing a disturbance again!” the scolding lady wailed over the ruckus outside.  A baby started bawling.

            Vito’s truck revved and backfired as I fought to control Stormwind, who snorted and pranced in terror, tugging at the leadrope, rearing, rolling her eyes.  The offending Toyota drove away leaving Vito to tear past, just missing us with a squeal and a cloud of blue smoke.  He narrowly missed hitting a car.

            A big white blur shoved me aside and knocked me to my knees.  Hot asphalt bit into my hands and knees as I saw Stormwind bolt down the middle of the road.

            Randy helped me to my feet and we took off after my spooked horse who raced down the yellow line, hooves clattering on the pavement as people stared.  Cars swerved and stopped.  Their squealing tires seemed to frighten her more as...

            “Stormwind, no!” I screamed.  A loaded logging truck almost hit her, its air brakes hissing, horns honking the driver’s surprise.  Stormwind whirled and galloped on down an alley, lost from our view.

            Traffic started moving slowly again, with hesitation as we ran on calling Stormwind’s name.  I felt blood running from my skinned knees but ignored it, shouted a question at a person who pointed down a side-road heading out of town.  “Come on, Randy!”

            We were slowed down by our heavy backpacks.  Mine dug into my shoulders and bounced against my backbone with every step, but we didn’t dare to throw them off.  Soon we spotted Stormwind trotting down the sidewalk ahead of us.  A crowd of kids tried to catch the rope when she slowed to graze on someone’s lawn, but she bolted when they got too close.

            The other kids stared at us as we walked up to Stormwind, out of breath.  She looked at us and took off again at a high-headed trot, nearing a little shack in a yard full of rusty car engines, and cars that rested on blocks in the overgrown weeds.  I spotted a now-familiar pickup truck parked behind a broken split-rail fence hung with “no trespassing” signs.

            “Oh, no,” I moaned as my horse began grazing in the weeds.

            “Let’s go home.  Mom told us not to come near this house,” one of the kids said.  They left Randy and me alone in Vito’s yard.

            We quietly herded Stormwind between two old cars and almost had her when...

            “Get that horse outa my yard!”  Vito stood on his porch waving his beer bottle at us and screaming curses.  “Vinnie!  Vinnie, geddown here!  And bring the gun!”

            We finally captured Stormwind but Vito bounded toward us.  Stormwind refused to go forward with the crazy man blocking our only way out.

            “Stormwind!” I begged.  I wasn’t going to let go again, not even if she dragged me down the sidewalk.

            “Aw, ain’t that a cute name,” Vito said.  “Hawp...”  He spat a stream of filthy spit at Stormwind’s hooves, laughing as she snorted and pranced.  “Here, little Stormwind.  Nice Stormy...”

            “Why don’t you shut up!” I snapped.

            Vito’s face contorted under his beard, just as a burly man who looked like a younger Vito appeared with a shotgun.  “Vinnie, shoot it,” Vito commanded.

            “But Pa -”

            “Shoot the horse!  Shoot it, Vinnie!”

            BOOM!  Randy and I jumped at the blast, and I hid my face.  “Stormwind,” I moaned.  “Is she...dead?”

            “No.  He shot in the air.  But we gotta get out of here -”

            “You ain’t goin’ anywhere!”  We turned and almost bumped into Vito, who towered over us with his tattooed arms folded.  He grinned.

            “That looks like a nice piece of horseflesh!  Must be worth a lot of money.  I’d say a horse like that could pay off the damages to my property!  Might even have enough left over to move outa this dump.”  He bent down and stuck his greasy nose in my face.  “Give it to me.”

            “Never!” I shouted. 

            “Give it to me and I won’t call the cops.  You punks trespassed on private land, that horse trampled my garden, it’s tearin’ up my turf.  Horses are just toys for little rich

girls - why don’tcha keep it where it belongs?”

            Vinnie, who I decided seemed half-witted, shot again and this time it wasn’t in the air.  Randy and I screamed and ducked behind a car.  “Vinnie, you idiot!”

            “But Pa, you told me to shoot...”

            As Vito turned and roared curses at his son, I leaped on Stormwind’s back.  I barely clung on by her mane as she reared high, sending me sliding back toward her rump.  I tightened my grip.  The ground under me was covered with broken glass.  I heard it crunch under Stormwind’s hooves.  I couldn’t fall off, now.

            Stormwind came down in a buck that threw me onto her neck.  I spun her in a circle with the leadrope, felt her body shuddering under my legs as I reached down for Randy.  “Get on!”

            “Uh...I don’t think so...”

            “Come on!”  Vito had stopped shouting at Vinnie and charged toward us.  Randy took one look at him, grabbed my hand, and swung up behind me.  Stormwind seemed surprised by the extra weight and bucked again.  With luck, we stayed on.

            She leaped into a gallop as Vito bellowed at us in fury, jumped on a motorcycle and chased us out of his yard.  Stormwind tore down the road out of control, no way to stop or guide her.  I knew that if Randy fell off it would pull me off too, and at this speed we’d be killed.

            It was chaos.  Stormwind carried us through town as panicked drivers veered out of our way.  Buildings passed by in a blur, people running out staring and pointing, horns honking all around.  Someone yelled at us to get out of the road, but we paid no attention.  I still heard Vito’s motorcycle not far behind us.

            We soon left town, now calmly cantering down the mountain road that passed the lake.  Stormwind’s sweat soaked our jeans.  Randy bounced clumsily with every stride and I had to hold on tight to keep us both on.  But worst of all was Vito and his motorcycle, which kept pace with us even as cars passed.  He shouted things over the revving engine, making menacing faces and swerving at us.  Stormwind was tiring now, and this time it was me in a panic.  What would he do if Stormwind stopped and we got off, or even worse, if she fell or went into labor?  What if he followed us clear back to the lean-to?

            Stormwind trotted over the bridge that had spooked her so badly that morning and turned into the woods beside the creek.  She seemed to know the way back.  I looked behind us and saw Vito standing by the road shaking his fists, screaming that this wasn’t over.

            We finally dismounted when Stormwind stopped by a fallen tree, sat down to rest.  “My legs are shaking,” Randy said.

            “So are mine.  What’s with that guy?”

            Randy shrugged.  “There’s some trailheads down the road.  One of ’em leads to our lean-to.  It’s really overgrown and there’s no sign up, or even any trail markers.  I don’t think he could get that bike through there, but...”

            Neither of us had to speak our fear that Vito would find the lean-to.  We stood up and followed the creek back home, swatting mosquitoes.