David Dun Official Website - Chapter 1

Welcome to the website of David Dun, thriller author

CHAPTER 1, Part 5
The Beginning | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part 5 | Part 6

Jessie was both attracted and repelled by this man. In her current frame of mind it was a relief to find anything attractive about any man. Probably the stories she had heard, the healing stuff, influenced her perceptions. He was also handsome and more masculine than a leather tobacco pouch. Now, sitting in his truck she had studied him; the fade of his jeans, and that they were clean; the deep brown of his heavily oiled boots; his leanness—no part of his belly hung over his belt; and his smart-looking khaki shirt.

Now watching him ride in a bulky overcoat, his hat cocked low, leaning into the wind, he looked like a vision from the old West. After a couple of hundred yards, Jessie and Claudie drove up to a barbed wire fence. They got out and walked to where Kier knelt over tracks in the snow. The flakes were beginning to dance and swirl. Drifts were deepening.

"I doubt she crossed this fence. So she was probably shunted to the far corner," Claudie said.

"Yup." Kier followed the tracks down the fence line. "Damn."

He knelt again at a muddy spot where the snow mixed with soil. There was a cougar track right amongst the mare's hoofprints. A splotch of blood had congealed on the snow.

"He's still after her."

Kier opened a compartment on the truck and removed a large canvas bag, which he handed to Jessie. Grabbing the saddle horn, he vaulted onto the horse and, in one smooth motion, snatched back his medical bag.

"Catch up with me," he said, leaving at a dead run.

Jessie and Claudie didn't have to drive far. Around the next stand of trees, Jessie saw Kier in the distance, standing next to his mount, watching the silver-gray mare against the fence. Coming right to the foot of the mountain, the oak-dotted pasture made a natural funnel defined by the terrain. The cattle scattered in response to the activity, then banded together in the far corner of the pasture, perhaps smelling the blood or the big cat.

Kier left his medical bag by a lone oak, then swung out of the saddle and hung from the side of his horse with one foot in the stirrup, his body facing his mount's rear. From what she could tell, Kier was approaching the mare while leading the other horse. The wounded mare tossed her head and began moving away down the fence.

Kier stopped.

As they neared the scene Jessie could see the lather and blood covering the panicked Dawn. Nostrils flaring, the horse panted wildly, intermittently making a high-pitched, squealing noise. Jessie could even see the newborn colt beginning to emerge, a dark spot that appeared to be the colt's forelegs.

Kier waved at Jessie to stop the truck.

Now Jessie saw the blood on the mare's flanks and a horrible wound on her nose. On her belly a deep, bloody furrow ran between many smaller gashes. Jessie gasped. What looked like greenish viscera protruded from the deeper belly wounds. Blood dripped thickly from more places than she could count.

At the oak tree, the women climbed out of the truck, watching, riveted to the delicate dance before them. Every time Kier's horse stepped toward the mare, the wounded creature would begin moving up the fence.

"It looks bad," Jessie said.

"It's worse than that," Claudie said. "From what I can see, the cat grabbed her nose with his paw, sank his teeth in her neck, raked her flank. I think she's lost a lot of blood."

Jessie suddenly realized why Kier was hanging off his horse: By doing so, he remained almost invisible to the wounded mare. Guiding the two horses to the mare's left side, Kier stopped them along the fence a good thirty feet from her. He steadied the two horses, now skittish at the smell of blood, and kept them tight together.

Still the mare sidestepped away.

Kier moved the two horses again at least ten feet back, giving Dawn even more room. The mare still tossed her head, but this time she took a few nervous steps toward them. Kier remained stock-still, stuck to the side of his horse. Again the mare came toward them, then stopped. It seemed she would come no closer.

Stepping down from his mount, Kier let his horse drift away, so that he came into full view of the mare. He stood square to her, focusing all his attention on her now. He raised his arm and pointed at her and began chanting loudly in Tilok.

The mare pawed and snorted. She backed away at first. But after a minute, she turned sideways, flicked an ear, then released a breathy squeal of pain. Another contraction came hard. The moment the mare flicked the ear down, Kier's chanting grew softer, and he turned sideways to her as if singing to the horizon-as if he were ignoring her.

As the two horses with Kier calmed, the mare neighed, rolled her eyes, and stepped closer. Now, she was perhaps twenty feet away. Seconds ticked by. Wearily, she pawed the ground, wobbling as if she might go down. Whinnying sounds followed breathy squeals in time with her contractions.

Kier's chanting grew louder again, and he once again turned squarely and pointed at her, fixing his gaze on her. The mare threw her head and backed up. Still Kier pressed her, even stepping forward, his arm locked, finger aimed. Again she moved away, breathing hard, frightened, pitiful. Finally, her ear cocked and she turned her flank broadside to Kier. He also turned sideways, crooning softly, seeming once again to ignore her altogether.

To Jessie it seemed almost as if Kier were in a trance, unconcerned, unaware of the emergency to his side. Then she noticed his feet; like the minute hand on a clock, they moved in almost undetectable increments. The two horses at his sides just naturally drifted with him. They were almost to the mare when she closed the gap by taking two steps toward them. Kier slipped the lariat off the saddle horn.

"God, this should be on TV," Jessie whispered. "What are the words?"

Claudie shook her head. "Some weird Tilok chant." She shook her head. "As long as it works."

Now Kier moved to the mare, stroking between her eyes. His chant became softer yet as, slowly, he moved to the side of her neck and slipped the lasso over her head. With the rope around her, the mare seemed to calm completely, as if she knew it was futile even to think of running. Gently, Kier tugged her down into the snow so that she lay on her side. In an instant, he was on his knees, stroking her neck and motioning the women forward. Claudie came with the medical bag, while Jessie hung back, knowing instinctively that it would not be good to crowd the injured mare.

With each contraction, Dawn let out an almost human groan. Now a third of the way out of the womb, the glistening wet colt thrashed its forelegs to aid in its own birth. It appeared a spindly, delicate thing as it came through the stretched membranes.

Using large metal hemostats, which looked to Jessie like needle-nose pliers, Kier set about probing the deep ugly wounds on the mare's neck. He pinched off the larger blood vessels, all the while chanting to the horse. Next he did the same with the fissurelike wound in her belly. Finally, he moved to the colt and helped it slip from the birth canal.

Jessie watched his face while he worked, the calm concentration as his hands constantly moved, touching the mare, stroking her as she released her foal.

At last Kier looked to the women and nodded. Claudie breathed a sigh.

"I need to get back to the kids," she said. Then Jessie felt Claudie's hand on her shoulder.

* * * *

The Beginning | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 Part 6