Morbid Metamorphosis by Lycan Valley Press

Author:Lycan Valley Press
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lycan Valley Press
Published: 2017-05-20T04:00:00+00:00

THE CATAMOUNT

Donna Marie West

I WANT you to take charge of the livestock, Henry,” Pop told me over supper. “Get the chickens in the hen house, the cows and horses in the barn. Close the doors up good for the night. And get your dog in the house before the sun goes down.”

“Yessir,” I said, shovelling another forkful of Mum’s pork and beans into my mouth. “What’s wrong, Pop? Did the Halls lose another heifer?”

“They lost two last month,” Pop said, “and the Bouchards lost a sow last night. It was all the talk in town today. Folks think it’s a bloody catamount come down from the north.”

“We call them cougars at school,” Billy said. Twelve years old, my kid brother thought he knew everything about everything.

“It don’t matter what you call it,” Pop replied. “It was no ordinary cat. Ripped those heifers plum to—”

“Ezra Bowen!” Mum interrupted with a shake of her head. “That’s no subject for supper conversation.”

“I picked them flowers, Pop,” said little Alice the peacemaker, pointing to the vase of purple corn flowers in the middle of the table.

“I don’t want you wandering out of the yard,” Pop snapped. “You hear me?”

“Yessir.” Alice’s lower lip quivered as she went back to her supper.

Pop looked around the table at us. “That goes for all of you. And no being out after sunset.” His tone let on it would do no good to argue with him, but once the dishes were washed and the little ones were put to bed, my big sister Emma tried.

“You said I could visit the Bouchards tomorrow,” she reminded him with a whine in her voice. “Mrs. Bouchard invited me to dinner and offered to give me some herbs from her garden for Mum’s preserves.”

I held back a chuckle. Emma and Bobby Bouchard were courting, and I usually took every opportunity to tease her about it. But not tonight.

Pop pondered this for a full minute. “Take your mare. And be back by supper. Without fault.”

“I will Pop, I promise. Thank you.”

Emma left for Bobby’s house Saturday after breakfast on her bay mare. I spent the morning on my lessons and helping Billy and Alice with theirs. Later, Billy and I hoed potatoes in the field with Pop. Alice minded baby Cora while Mum carried baskets of potatoes down to the cellar to store them. It was time to wash up for supper before we knew it – and Emma wasn’t home yet.

“Henry, get the geldings hitched up,” Pop said to me. “I’m going to look for your sister.”

“Ah, come on, Pop,” I objected. “Emma just lost track of time. She and Bobby are probably sitting on the porch swing right now, k – i – s—”

“Henry!”

“Yessir.”

I hastily brushed our two black geldings and hitched them to the wagon. I was buckling the last strap when Pop joined me with his shotgun in hand. He used it often for hunting, but he never took it with him to call on neighbours.

Pop climbed onto the wagon, laid the shotgun at his feet, and picked up the reins.

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