A Wolf Affair: Chapter 2

It turned out that the forest bordering our land was an animal reserve. Therefore, hunting wasn’t allowed; which made me feel mighty safe on horseback. They did, however, allow fishing in the large river that was located on the south end of the eighteen-hundred acres.

I discovered hiking trails that were suitable for my horse and me to explore. There were even occasional markings to indicate what part of the reserve we were in. It was because of these markings, and my fear of getting lost being eliminated by those markings, that I ventured to the opposite side of the forest.

There was a large farm in a high valley on the northeast edge of the state land. It looked to be in good repair, but, whenever I rode that way, I saw no signs of life. Of course, I didn’t go onto the property. I stayed on the edge of the tree line and looked down at it.

The house was a typical two-story farmhouse. I’m not an expert on architecture, but I did take enough classes in school to deduce that the house was probably built around the turn of the century. It was what I’d expected our house to be like.

There were several weathered outbuildings and a weathered barn that looked like it housed cows at one time. Although not in as pristine a condition as our place was, it still looked well kept. Just not lived in.

With summer in full swing, the days were getting longer and longer. This meant that I was out riding later and later. It wasn’t until the walls of my stomach were rubbing together with such force that I stopped to check the time and realized that I’d been out all day. I’d missed lunch and supper. I was on the edge of the tree line looking down at the empty farm when I had the presence of mind to check the position of the sun. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be stuck in the forest when the sun went down.

My gelding’s name was Roger. It wasn’t a name that I would have given him, but it was the name that he came with and that he responded to, so I didn’t change it. Roger was jet black with a white star on his forehead. He stood sixteen and a half hands high with powerful, well-defined flanks. Had he been human, he would have easily been taken for a body builder.

I rode Roger as much as I could, but, since horses weren’t Josh’s thing and mom was too busy settling us in and preparing for her new job, I was expected to exercise the other two horses as well. Daisy was a sweet tempered, fifteen hand dapple grey, and Peter was a smooth gaited chestnut gelding who matched Daisy perfectly in height and build.

Only Roger stood out; not just because of his size and coloring, but because of his badass attitude. Almost anyone could ride Daisy or Peter. Only the brave and experienced dared climb on Roger’s back. Since life had slowed down to less than boring, the little bit of challenge Roger offered just made him all the more appealing to me.

Since I was starving and had lost track of time, I decided to take a more direct route back home. It would mean that we’d have to go off the trails. This was something we’d never done before. I wasn’t sure about the terrain or if there were markers off the trails, but I knew it would cut our journey home in half.

Not knowing what to expect by cutting through the forest, Roger wasn’t the ideal horse to be on, but there was nothing I could do. I’d rather ride a skittish horse over unfamiliar terrain than be stuck riding him through the woods after dark. Trail or no trail, that was a recipe for disaster.

We’d been picking our way through the maze of trees for about ten minutes when I caught sight of something dark moving in sync with us to our left. Almost simultaneously, Roger danced around while tossing his head as if to escape the bit. Grateful that I was riding western and not English, I clung to the saddle horn to keep from losing my balance as I looked down at the compost floor that consisted of soggy, dead leaves and fallen branches.

It took focus and determination to bring Roger around to a calmer, steadier state of mind. When I felt confident that he was finally under control, I looked around to see just what it was that was stalking us, but it was gone.

I felt nervous and vulnerable. I wanted to get out of there in case it came back or something new showed up, so I urged Roger forward at a slightly quicker pace than we’d been keeping.

The sun set over the mountain ridge about five minutes before we reached my home. I made sure that Roger was brushed down and the tack was properly put away before I headed into the house to tend to my own body’s needs.

I found my mother pacing the hedge enclosed patio. She’d called the Mastersons, a newlywed couple who lived about one-half mile down the road in a small cottage, to ask if they’d seen me. Hearing how distraught she was, they decided to keep her company while she worried and waited for me to come home.

I couldn’t remember when I’d heard so much fear in my mother’s voice. “Mary Jane Cramby… You’ve been gone all day! On Roger, no less. He’s too unpredictable to be on for that long. I was getting ready to tack up a horse and come looking for you. Where’s your cell phone?”

Since the calls and texts from my so-called friends back home had dwindled to the point of almost never and our plan had limited wi-fi, which made it difficult to connect via social media, I’d stopped bothering with the telephone and left it on my nightstand most of the time.

I explained this to her with as much courtesy as I could muster, considering I felt like I’d been ambushed as soon as I’d put one foot on the patio’s flagstone. There was also the fact that she’d used my full name. She knew better than anyone how much I hated my name. I introduced myself to the world as Missy; the nick name given to me by Josh when he was only three years old. It was a silly name, but it beat Mary Jane, hands down.

As tempers died down and moods lightened. I was excused to go to the kitchen and dive into the baked chicken and mashed potato meal she’d kept warm for me. It was the perfect meal to finish the day I’d had. It was filling to satisfy my hunger and comforting to ease my nerves after the stressful ride home and the greeting that followed.

I was tired from a day on horseback and I still had to go to the barn to do the night feeding, but I couldn’t resist the light laughter that floated in through the open windows, so I went back out to join mom and the Mastersons for a little while.

“You know, Missy” Lila Masterson’s eyes sparkled knowingly as she addressed me correctly and said in a soft tone, “it was more than just the fact that you were riding an unpredictable horse. I’ve seen you ride and have no doubt that you can handle anything you put a saddle on. It’s just that there are predators in the forest.”

“Like what?” I asked as I remembered the dark figure that was stalking me.

“Like wolves for one,” Lila said.

“And bears,” her husband, Bruce, added.

“Seriously?” I said with knitted brow. “I haven’t seen anything but deer, rabbits and a few ducks.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie since I’d only seen the dark figure in my peripheral vision and hadn’t gotten a good enough look at it to see what it was. For all I knew, my eyes could have been playing tricks on me and it was nothing more than a young tree.

“Count yourself lucky,” Bruce said.

“I love to ride the trails,” I mused with disappointment.

“No one’s telling you not to, dear,” mom said gently. “We’re just asking you to pay attention to the time and be out of there before dusk.”

“That’s when the mood of the place changes,” Lila said with a shudder.

I had to admit that she was right about that. I could feel a type of eeriness permeating the woods, the later it got. I was grateful that, by the time the sun set, I could see the open field and our barn. Saying that I had the creeps was an understatement. Rather than admit this to them, I nodded and agreed to be more careful; as well as to remember to carry my cell phone with me.

As I headed to the barn to bed the horses down for the night, I took a moment to enjoy the brightness of the evening sky. The moon was almost full. In a few more days, it would be. I stopped and stared at it while I remembered my younger years when my father and I would sit in the back lawn and admire the moon as it mingled with the stars. He took a sketch pad outside with him at one point and drew the face he saw in the moon. We framed it and I still had it hanging in my room.

The sound of Daisy neighing brought me back to the matter at hand and I scurried off. The sooner the horses were tended to, the sooner I could soak in a hot tub.