THE CABIN

The cabin was an old-line cabin, in Montana, near a wilderness area. The only way to the cabin was by horseback. My brother and I had taken a few days off from the office. We rented a couple of horses from the rancher at the bottom of the mountain. And made the trip up the cabin. When the day came, we had agreed upon for returning. I decided, I hadn’t had enough vacation.

At breakfast that morning, Ross’s hand immediately lowered the fork full of bacon and eggs he was preparing to eat, when I told him I was not ready to go back. He stared at me, with a blank look on his face. "What do you mean, not ready to go back? We agreed on ten days. Pack up your stuff and let’s go."

"Ah, take it easy. Things aren’t that bad."

Evidently, Ross thought things were that bad. "The whole office could blow up. Do you care?"

"Sure I care," with another smile, I picked up my coffee cup, "Hire a couple of contract personnel for a while. We can afford it."

Ross was still unsatisfied with my answer. "Sure we can, but that is not the point."

"What’s the point?"

"You’re getting lazy up here."

"Lazy? I’m just enjoying myself. I like it up here. Besides---" I blew on the hot coffee, "I need a break from your cooking."

Ross sat there staring at me for a moment, and I knew he was really getting mad now. "If your cooking is any better, you can have it. I’m leaving. Today, now in fact." He stood up then, nearly over turning the rough pine table.

I walked to the door, looked out into the morning sunshine. I leaned against the doorframe, while Ross threw his cloths in to his bag. Ross brushed by me in a rage. Ross saddled up his rented horse. I thought he was going to break the horse’s back the way he threw the saddle on. I slouched in the doorway, soaking up the early morning sunshine. Watching, slowly drinking my coffee. I stayed there as he rode by, not saying another word to me. I watched Ross till he was out of sight. Then walked back inside the cabin. The pine floor needed sweeping, the dishes needed washing, beds needed to be made. I put my coffee cup on the table. After a moment’s consideration, I steeped out of the cabin, slamming the door behind me.

"Who is going to be coming here?" I said aloud, "I’m on vacation."

My rented horse Blacky, heard the door slam. He seemed to know what that meant. I was not going to work around the cabin that morning. "Hey Blacky. Let’s go for a ride!"

Blacky nickered back at me. I grabbed my gun and holster from the peg on the front porch. Thought I could get in a little target shooting while I was out. I saddled Blacky. And the two of us headed up a trail towards the top of the mountain.

I guess I rode for about an hour. Just taking my time, with nothing to do. Not in any hurry to get it done. Just letting Blacky pick his way up and down the trail. I rocked back and forth in the saddle with the whispering of the wind in the pines, for company. I started dozing, grabbing the saddle horn once in a while to save myself from falling. Everything was completely peaceful. I do not know what time of the day it was. I only remember the piercing cry of a bobcat. When I came to, I wished I were dead. I was sprawled across a fallen tree, which was across the trial. I knew as soon as I tried to move, that I had several broken ribs. I thought the pain would kill me. Then wished it would, as I dragged myself off that log to the grass. The sun was high now, and Ross’s bacon and eggs has ceased to nourish me. I felt my holster for my gun. Maybe Ross was not too far away, or maybe someone else would hear a signal for help. But the gun was gone.

"Hell," I said, "I’ll probably have visitors this morning, since I did not wash the dishes."

I decided not to do any more talking. It hurt too much. I tried to get up. But could not. I looked around hoping to find something anything that might be a way out. I finally saw my gun, about six feet away in the trail. I thought I’d never reach it. I needed to get some sort of signal off. I crawled towards the gun, it seemed like forever before my hand closed on the butt of the gun.

"What’s the signal? Oh hell," I said. It was a long moment before I was able to point the mussel of that gun skyward. I pulled the trigger. Once, twice, three times. The forest was filled with the echo of the shoots. Then silence closed in about me.

I don’t know how long it was before I heard a husky voice calling.

"Hey, you city slickers, wake up! Can’t sleep here all day? C’mon, I got the horses ready for you to take up to the cabin."

"Cabin!"

Karon O'Donnell

Portland, Oregon 97203