A Novel by Kawika A. Stafford

Chapter 32

“Got him.” Dwayne negotiated in and around small clumps of scrub brush to retrieve the quail he had dispatched with his old but reliable wrist rocket. Dwayne had offered Sonny Ray the wrist rocket earlier, but Sonny Ray assured him he would be fine with his pocket of rocks. Dwayne had not seen or heard from him in over an hour. Dwayne had shot ten quail.

After placing his quail in a used Bluebird flour sack, he decided to head back in the direction of camp, and keep an eye out for his hunting partner.

Dwayne headed down a small hill, walking on a game trail, when a cotton tail rabbit decided to make a jail break, and crashed through some mesquite branches near to the trail where he walked. “Rascally wabbit, scared the shit out of me,” Dwayne said in his best Elmer Fudd ever.

Suddenly he paused in his tracks. Dwayne sensed something watching him.
He looked around slowly, moving only with his eyes.

Last year an old man from Medicine River, had been attacked and mauled by a mountain lion.

However, his sense of smell alerted him to the fact that there was no danger whatsoever.

He climbed the hill slowly and saw Sonny Ray sitting under a large piñon tree.

A cream colored cloud of cannabis blew gently upward, dispersing through the branches of the large tree. The burning flower wafed down in his direction. Both men smiled.

“Smoke Signals, hawaiian style,” Sonny Ray said.

“You did well with your pocket of rocks.” Dwayne sat down next to Sonny Ray, looking at his five quail. “Not bad yourself,” Sonny Ray said pointing at the flour sack Dwayne had placed on the ground. The men sat quietly sipping water. Dwayne was a quiet man, and fairly reserved, but him and Sonny Ray got along like they had known each other for a minute.
“There’s a stream a little further up the canyon where we can go and clean these quail,” Dwayne said. Sonny Ray nodded, as he placed the five quail in the flour sack.

Tonight they would feast.

The afternoon had slipped away with the sun as the two men prepared to head back to camp. Large boulders dotted the land. A vapor blood trail followed quietly behind them. They had walked up the next hill, and stood quietly as they both gazed down at the small camp fire in the distance.

Cyrus was waiting.

They descended to the bottom of the hill. The leader of the quail covey could be heard calling, directing the covey of quail to follow the escape plan.
The lead scout of the quail sat perched high on a branch, surveying the field. It sought refuge for those in its charge.

Vowing revenge for its fallen, the covey of quail retired from the field of battle seeking ease, as they slipped away into the fading light of the Arizona landscape.

The men had walked up the next hill, and we’re almost to the bottom of that hill, when they saw it. It was kind of hard to believe really.
It was a bobcat. Both Sonny Ray and Dwayne had lived in Arizona long enough to know that it was rare for anyone to see a bobcat out in the open. It just doesn’t happen.
Both men became immediately aware that this particular bobcat had very little fear of man.

It approached nonchalantly, like your house cat might do, when you first come home from work.

The bobcat was maybe thirty five pounds. It appeared to be somewhat malnourished; which in of itself was sufficient to account for it’s bold behavior. Either that or it had rabies. Nonetheless, these small cats were not to be discounted. The bobcat began a slow calculated approach to the men, and their quail. The bobcat could taste the blood of the quail, in the air. It began with a low guttural growl. They were as prepared as possible, one with a wrist rocket, the other with a couple of tangerine sized rocks at the ready. The bobcat continued to advance closer now. It began to hiss really slow, but with a rising crescendo of hissy fit loud. Sonny Ray got chicken skin.

Without any firearms their options were a little scanty. Common sense said drop the quail, and cut your losses. Dwayne looked at Sonny Ray, and both men nodded in silent agreement to do just that. The bobcat was perhaps, sixty five yards away. As Dwayne was about to place the hard earned quail on the ground, the bobcat picked up it’s pace. “Not good,” Sonny Ray said, in the simplest wordage possible. Dwayne nodded in full agreement.

Both men began looking around, as they subconsciously wondered if they could out Macgyver the other.

“Oh Shit,” one of the men said, as the bobcat closed.

Out of the shadows of the sheer canyon cliffs, the giant black eagle, leapt from it’s rocky perch. The aggressive movement of the bobcat had aroused its rapacious instinct to dive, to hunt, to kill.

Though at this time it would not be out of hunger. It’s large powerful wings carried the black eagle in and out of a dimension rarely observed by mankind. The winged creature flew through the air, bearing down on the hapless bobcat.

The two men didn’t have a clue, as their interest was not particularly focused on the sky at this time. They began to back up but not quite ready to succumb to panic. The bobcat was within forty yards now. Dwayne dropped the blood stained bag of quail. The bobcat continued its quest.

The nubian eyes of the black eagle stared fixed at it’s target. It’s talons were fully extended, as death flew silently, unrelenting was the Black Eagle Dream.

The heavenly predator laid claim to this creature of the earth.

Without the hint of danger upon it, the powerful black eagle snatched the bobcat from the ground; the way a child might pluck a dandelion from the grass. Its massive wings were perhaps only eight, maybe nine feet from the ground; as it blew over the top of Dwayne and Sonny Ray.

This was the original stealth fighter.

“AAhhhh!!!” The men cried out in unison, as they threw themselves, instinctively to the ground. Dwayne and Sonny Ray saw something that would not soon be forgotten; the terrified, and confused look of the bobcat, as the black eagle circled back flying over the two men a second time. The doomed bobcat seemed to plead with the men, as it’s legs were hopelessly flopping around in the wind. Its eyes seemed to beg; ‘help me.’

They could hear the cry of the cat on the wind, as the black eagle disappeared into the night.

The fading sound of the bobcat bleating out a final cry for his mother proved to be inconsequential.

The men stood slowly. After dusting off they watched the silhouette of the black eagle finally fading into the night. “I am not sure what just happened here,” Dwayne offered with a college educated grin.

“What the fuck,” was all the high school graduate could manage.

“I concur sir,” Dwayne said. Both men began to laugh heartily. Dwayne had gathered their quail, and began the final push to their camp.

As the two men walked, they became captive to their own thoughts.

Sonny Ray thought about this black eagle. By virtue of the fact that this black eagle showed up when it did, it was obvious to Sonny Ray that it had acted out of a protective measure rather than of need.

Was this really happening to him?

The sun had set and the stars shed their celestial light upon the earth, as the coyote sat on the hill with his friend the gila monster, watching the unpredictable humans.

The two men continued walking. Dwayne grinned. Cyrus was right, Sonny Ray was the one. And why wouldn’t he be, Sonny Ray was his son. The two men walked side by side as they neared camp. Dwayne had set up near the canyon wall. The glow of fire reflected off the many layers of sandstone of the canyon. The smell of various foods mingled in the air. The two men finally approached camp. Cyrus had brewed a pot of coffee.

Like a couple of teenagers they began to relate to the old man about the black eagle and the bobcat.

After sharing a simple but tasty meal the three men settled in on their bed rolls. The stars hung in the sky like bad memories, always there to remind them of things they might not want to remember. The three men stared up into the sky, each searching out the things that hurt the most, and for the things that were most important in their lives, understanding that more often than not; these two things were intertwined, sometimes one in the same.

The crackling of the burning mesquite was the only sound in the cool evening of night. Sonny Ray though, had grown weary of sad thoughts, they weighed him down.

“Did you know, that a native hawaiian was at the Battle of the Little Big Horn?”

Sonny Ray asked, from deep, deep, left field.

The two men turned slightly in the direction of Sonny Ray.
“It’s true, really. This hawaiian guy ended up becoming a scout for Custer.”

Dwayne sat up slowly. “Sonny Ray are you jerking my chain?”

“I would never jerk your chain Dwayne I barely know you,” Sonny Ray smiled slyly.

Dwayne gave a look that denoted doubt.
“Dude I am dead serious. It is a little known fact, but a fact nonetheless,” Sonny Ray said trying not to laugh. “So what happen to him?” Dwayne asked, not thinking. “What happened to him? He got his ass killed that’s what. But hey he was running with the bad guys so what did he expect?” Sonny Ray stated, setting up the finish to his story.

“The sad thing though was, he was actually a relative of mine,” Sonny Ray said, pretending to be sad. “Sonny Ray I know we just met, but I have to tell you something.” Sonny Ray looked over at Dwayne trying to maintain his composure.

“You’re so full of shit.”

The old man chuckled, waiting for more. “Dwayne I’m serious now.” “Okay wise guy if he was your relative then what was his name,” Dwayne asked trying to squash his story.

“His name was Charlie Puka in the shirt,” Sonny Ray said proudly.

“Charlie Puka in the what?” Dwayne asked, knowing all the while he was being pulled into the black hole of his friend’s story.

“Bruh his name was Charlie Puka in the shirt,” Sonny Ray declared. There was a slight pause in the conversation. Dwayne mockingly sighed. “Okay, what does Puka in the shirt mean Sonny Ray?” Dwayne was fully committed to the story now.

“Puka is the hawaiian word for hole. The hawaiian scout had so many arrows in him, they called him,’”Charlie Puka in the shirt.’”

“You’re full of crap, but that was a pretty good story,” Dwayne said. Cyrus chuckled.

Soon all three men were laughing. The men grew quiet again.

They resumed their search, as the stars hung like good memories in the sky, reminding them it was good to laugh now and again, even in the face of death.

The wind began to swirl, blowing the fire into disarray. Cyrus drifted off to sleep. The two men began to be carried away into their own thoughts. They lay back, and continued to contemplate the beauty of the star filled skies above them.

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