Gathering Hunters House of the Abandoned
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The Hunter's Tale free porn video
THE HUNTER'S TALE.
By
Cassandra Anaconda Morrison
I had been collecting tales of the old days from the people in that small
mountain community for several days. And everyone I talked to said the
same thing: "Boy?yew should talk to Old Man Sackett if yew wants to
hear some hair-raising stories about the old days." It had taken me some
time to track him down?apparently he'd taken his Winchester and gone
off hunting deer for all he was over 90 years old. But now he was sitting
across from me, with a glass of whiskey in his hand and a twinkle in his
faded blue eyes. I pressed the button on the tape recorder and motioned to
him to begin. The following is a transcript of that interview. I don't say
Old Man Sackett's story is true. Sometimes I find myself praying that it
was all a lie. But I'll let his words speak for themselves.
C. A. M.
September 5, 2002
"Well, sir," the old man said. "It was back in '08?me and
Shovelhead Jones was up on the Continental DEEvide a-huntin' wild
transsexshuls for the Brooklyn Park Zoo. They wuz offerin a thousand
dollars cash money for one and we wuz of a mind to cut ourselves in on
that deal. Well sir, it had been blowin' a blizzard fer some days and me
and Shovelhead was about outta food but we had seen some tracks during
a lull in the storm and we knew we had to press on?on account o' them
there wild transsexshuls being so wily."
"How did you know they were the tracks of a wild transsexshul?" I
inquired, for I was curious.
"Well, sir," he said. "I thought as how yewed be askin me that
question?and I tell ya?it's blamed easy! When yuh see a set o' tracks
what changes from boots to the dainty shape of a woman's shoe?yew
know as how you be on the right track. And that's what these here tracks
had done."
I nodded to show I understood.
"Unfortunately," he went on. "We had only managed to follow the
tracks fer a smile or so afore the storm set in again. But Shovelhead and I
knew as how we had to press on cuz them wild transsexshuls commence
to get footsore after a mile or two and we knew if we just kep a-goin we'd
have her.
'Well, sir?that there storm was blowin straight out of that circle
of ice what that eye-talian poet says hell is made up of (don't look so
surprised, boy, I was stuck in a line camp up on the Hangin' Woman one
winter and I read that there book clean through three times). Anyways it
was a-getting colder and colder and we knew our horses would have to
have shelter soon. Us too as far as that goes.
Well sir?there wasn't hide nor hair of a cabin or even a cave so
far as we could see. Which wasn't very far?on account of the snow. But
Shovelhead he refused to get all hangdog about it. He allowed as how the
transsexshul we wuz followin would be getting into shelter her ownself
and the quickest way for us wuz just to keep a-follerin her tracks in the
snow.
I won't say he warn't right but there was one thing clear: We wuz
gonna have to hustle some if we wanted to foller them there tracks much
longer cuz the snow was fallin heavier and heavier and purty soon them
tracks was gonna disappear just like that Houdini feller we'd seen perform
at Mormon Station one time.
"So anyways we commenced to hustle and all the time that snow
got heavier and heavier and the drifts got deeper and deeper and we knew
we had to slow down whether we wanted to or not on account o' you don't
want to raise a sweat in them conditions cuz the sweat'll freeze on yer
body and purty soon you got yourself a fine case o' frostbite. Thet's if yuh
don't freeze to death altogether."
I lit a cigarette and nodded. I had heard the same from other
Mountain Men and Trappers over the years.
The Old Man took a pinch of snuff and put it under his lip before
he continued:
"Well, sir?I looked around for a suitable tree we could fashion
into a lean-to but there wuz nuthin nearby but nuthin. A half mile or so
back there had been nuthin but trees?evergreens mostly?and a few
spruce?but here there was none. All we could do was go on.
"I ain't quite sure how much time passed after that. I had hocked
my grandpa's watch for enough money to outfit this here zoological
expedition but I reckon as how it was an hour or more when Shovelhead
suddenly lets out an exclamation and points off to our left. And there?in
the cliff?was a small point of light in the midst of a circle of blackness
that we knew at once had to be a cave!
"'Shovelhead,' I says. "You've done saved us!' And we turned our
horses in that direction. Well, it wasn't long afore we wuz dismounting in
front of the cave.
"'Hello, the camp!' I calls. 'There's a couple of pilgrims out here
in need of shelter.'
"Then the sweetest voice I ever heard calls back: 'Keep yore hands
empty and come on in.'
"Well, sir, me and Shovelhead lost no time in doin' just that.
'You'll find a kind of stable a bit farther back,' says our hostess.
'You can put yore horses there.'
"Well, I hands my reins to Shovelhead and he leads the horses on
back while I stepped up to that fire and began to thaw a mite.
'I imagine yew'll not say no to coffee,' our hostess says, handing
me a cup and indicating a pot that was a-settin on a flat stone just to one
side of the fire.
"'No ma'am,' I says. 'I surely wouldn't.' and I poured myself a
cup, holding it in my hands and blowing on it a mite afore I drank.
"Well, sir?that there coffee had obviously been made by a master
of the art. Strong enough to float a horseshoe in as we used to say and with
just a hint of chicory for added flavor.
'There's a plate of bear-sign right beside yuh if yore hungry," our
hostess said to Shovelhead as he rejoined us after rubbing down the horses
and putting their feedbags on em.
"'Ma'am I calls that right neighborly of yew," sez Shovelhead as
he takes a cup and the plate from her.'"
I interrupted the old man at this point to request a clarification of
the term "bear-sign" which I had not heard before.
"What yew calls doughnuts," the old man said with a short laugh.
"We allus called em bear-sign on account o' they look kinda like a bear's
track." he explained.
I thanked him and motioned for him to proceed. He opened his
mouth and then paused, looking suggestively at his empty whiskey glass. I
refilled it without a word and, with a nod, he continued his narrative.
"Well, after taking one bite o that doughnut I knew I was in love.
Son, in these days I don't suppose you've ever et a freshly-baked home-
made doughnut made by someone what has the gift but I'm tellin' yew
there ain't nuthin like it this side o' Paradise! And then there was that
coffee! Mister?this here was clearly the woman I had been lookin fer all
me life!
"'I reckon we might as well git acquainted,' I sez at this juncture.
"I'm Elias Sackett and this here's me partner?Shovelhead Jones.' She
nodded to Shovelhead. 'I'm Melody Talon,' she sez real straightforward
like.
"' Well, Miss Talon,' sez Shovelhead. 'Yew ought to be a
professional baker if this here bear-sign is any indication.'
"She blushed up real purty-like. 'Thank you, Mr. Jones,' says she.
'That was a very nice compliment?though quite undeserved.'
'No, ma'am.' sez I. 'It shorely wasn't undeserved. I reckon
Shovelhead has the right of it. These here are the best bear-sign I ever et.'
"'I appreciate your words, Mr. Sackett,' says she. 'But I think it is
possible that your judgment may have been impaired by extreme hunger.'
"Well, I looked at the plate and realized suddenly that Shovelhead
and I had et every crumb o' that bear-sign. 'Miss Talon,' I sez then. 'I
reckon we done et yore dinner and I wish to apologize. There ain't much I
kin do about that right now but once this here storm lets up a mite I'll
fetch you a bait of fresh meat.'
"Well sir, she gave me a smile that lit up her face like sunrise on a
field of snow. 'You needn't worry, Mr. Sackett. I have some salt pork and
plenty of beans?I'll make out all right. You and Mr. Jones are welcome
to share it with me. I assure you there is plenty?even for such hearty
eaters as you two.'
"Well, what could we do but thank her? Mister?that woman could
cook to beat the band! I never tasted nuthin like it until a whole lotta years
later when I stopped off at the Pump and Hump near Virginia City,
Nevada.'"
"'Pump and Hump?'" I repeated.
"Sort of a combination of gas station and brothel," he replied.
"Run by Madame St. Clair. Anyways they got a cook there named Cass
Morrison whose food reminds me o' Melody Talon's."
I nodded for him to continue.
"Well sir?to make a long story short Miss Talon rode with us
when we lit a shuck outta that frozen waste and rode down through what is
now the Pike National Forest and on into Denver. A few months later I
married her and we were very happy right up until her death back in '98.
The only shadow on our marriage was that my dear Melody was unable to
have children?but we rarely thought about that. Yes," he nodded with
quiet serenity. "we were very happy."
"But what about the 'Wild Transsexual you were hunting?" I
asked.
"Now that's a funny thing," said the Old Man. "The day we
decided to git back down the mountains Shovelhead was back in the
cavern saddlin' the horses when he lets out a shout yew couldda heard in
Denver. Maybe even in the Springs. Naturally I rushes back to see what's
wrong and I sees Shovelhead and Melody a-lookin' at each other?neither
sayin' a word, 'What's all the ruckus?' I asks.
"Shovelhead he looks at me like he never seen me before then
turns back to Melody's horse and finishes tyin' her saddlebags on.
'Nuthin', he sez. 'I thought I saw a rattler.' And Melody she walks over
and puts her dainty little hand on his arm. 'Thank yew,' she sez.
"Well, I thought no more about it until Shovelhead he lay a-dyin
about six months later and he raised up outta his coma and sez to me
'Elias,' he sez. 'Remember that time up on the Dee-vide when we wuz
huntin' wild transsexshuls fer that zoo?'
"I nodded. 'Shore do, Shovelhead?and I have allus kinda
regretted that we never caught that one we wuz a-trackin. Mebbe when
yew git well we kin give it another try.'
"'What makes yew think we nev?' sez he and then he ups and
dies. And I've allus wondered what he was a-fixin to say? Could it have
been 'What makes yew think we never caught one?' That's the only thing
that seems to fit but. if so, whut did he mean?'"
Here I looked at the Old Man but he appeared honestly puzzled.
Yet all the clues were there. I heaved a sigh and decided to say nothing of
what I suspected. Which was that Shovelhead Jones had seen something in
Melody Talon's saddlebags that had put him wise. As to why he never
said anything?well?they owed their lives to Melody Talon's
hospitality?that was the first and most obvious thing. And maybe old
Shovelhead had become a little infatuated with her as well. For either or
both of those reasons an old-fashioned gentleman would be strongly
disinclined to betray a secret.
But I don't know. I don't even know if there's any truth to the
story at all. And yet sometimes I wake up in the night, sitting bolt upright
in my bed and trembling. For, in my dreams, I have seen thousands upon
thousands of childless couples?childless because the wife isn't quite
what she seems to be. And then I look at my wife lying quietly asleep
beside me and, for an instant, I wonder. Was she BORN female? We've
been married seven years now and never had any children. And it hasn't
been for any lack of trying.
I don't know. I don't know. The suspicion always seems ridiculous
in the cold light of day but what if????
Mckenna
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