Pursuit

Fear found him. And it bound him tighter than any rope or chain. The wild beauty of the mountainside turned on him; he would die here, a victim of circumstance and bad luck. His mind swirled with desperation; he'd known better than to ride in this pursuit alone. Now, his gelding lay forty feet below him, broken and twisted, the saddle skewed at an improbable angle. Anger took over. At the man he was after, and the big cat that had spooked his horse.

With clenched teeth, the Marshall looked upward, toward where the trail had caved in. This dried out root he clung to wouldn't hold for long either. Fear-sweat oozed from his pores as the wind changed from south to north; there would be no mercy from the mountain. And his jacket was tied to the back of his rig. Useless, unattainable.

He hugged the loose dirt with his body, his hands gripped so tightly on the root, that he couldn't feel it anymore. His only hope was the ATF chopper. They were on the case too, this guy had a cache of weapons that rivaled a military compound. But coming up here alone had been foolish. He wasn't a young gun anymore, just a middle-aged cop due to retire.

Fatigue began to creep into his veins and his mind started to play tricks on him. He tried to dig in with his boot-heels, but the movement loosened more dirt and it fell down onto the dead horse, bouncing off its body with faint whacking sounds. Old Beau had been a good one. This thought flashed across his mind, along with regret that he hadn't given his buddy an extra apple the night before.

"Damn it, Beau, we've seen varmints before ... what got into ya, old boy?" The wind was the only response. It whistled and crept around him, a sly foe, it brought a sudden, cold rain.

Marshall Lane hugged the bank, what was left of it, as his mind swirled with panic. He didn't dare try to retrieve his cell phone. He shut his eyes and pushed his thoughts back. To his wife's birthday party. She had been radiant with happiness. He wished he'd been more attentive to her; and he regretted not being kinder to her all these years. Now, the badge he had in his pocket seemed a mere part of a costume, a joke. He was losing everything. All for some guy whose only crime so far, was guns stashed in his sheds.

The earthen bank soaked up water, little by little the purchase Lane had, eroded. Clod by clod, it slipped away. He glanced down, maybe he could jump and roll. But the big cat skulked near Beau. He cursed the day. Cursed the mountain ... and the cougar.

Thunder vibrated the ground, more dirt crumbled away and fell to the rocks below. He held his breath then, as he thought he heard another sound that seemed to blend in with the storm. But he couldn't tell if the thump in the air was empty hope, or the big bird from the Feds.

And time was running out.









Copyright, S.E. Miller