by Cyn Bagley

Created on: June 28, 2007

It's All About Survival

In the high-mountainous desert of eastern Utah, the early-morning air seeped through her clothing. Chrissie shivered. Even, the borrowed gloves, too big for her hands, barely kept them warm. The weather here was temperamental. Some years, it would snow from October to June: others, it would be warm enough to play baseball year-round.

Breath steamed. No doubt, this year's snow would bring elk and deer, unable to forage in the high-meadows, down from the mountain. They would devour the ranchers' haystacks, stealing what profit ranchers gained by growing alfalfa.

The cold air tickled her throat. Cupping her hands over her mouth, her breath warmed her cheeks. A quick glance at the horizon confirmed that the storm was settled on the not-to-distant hills. Chrissie hunched into her denim-jacket.

She shouldn't be out here, doing Randy's chores if Randy hadn't decided to be stupid. He'd broken his leg, falling off a horse. She snorted. How many times has he fallen off horses? One time too many. Hero-villain-she didn't know what he was. She measured the oats for the horses.

Pa had told him not to touch the mustang. Pa wasn't even sure if he could tame him. He called that horse a force of nature. But, Randy was at that age where he wouldn't listen to nobody.

Chrissie sighed. And then school. She would almost rather do all the chores and work side-by-side by Pa than have to deal with those townies. The girls seemed self-assured with their short skirts, their make-up, and their boyfriends. Perfume. She would give anything to smell like a girl instead of a farm hand. She smelled of chickens, cows, and horses. Crap. Crap. Crap. And more crap.

And, Randy. He wanted to be on the football team. He wanted to date. He wanted to be one of them. Riding the mustang was his way to look like a hero to those fluff-girls.

Damn she said in her head. "Darn," she said aloud. Pa would switch her and Ma would wash her mouth out if they knew the kind of language she spoke at school. But, darn school. And darn Randy.

The sky rumbled from one end to another. It was a reminder to work faster. Chrissie noted the clouds piling above the hills. She didn't have much time to finish the chores.

Chrissie grabbed the pan filled will chicken mash and headed for the henhouse.

"Grrrrrr."

That was not the sound of the approaching storm. Chrissie came round the corner of the barn and she saw it. The cougar. It was not young. Tufts of hair dropped from his coat and his ribs were sharply outlined

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