Duncan Little

Hmm – starting a new book even before I finish the last one.  Here it is.  The first chapter to: Duncan Little.

Carol Matheson walked down the mountain path with the woven basket that Duncan made for picking berries. It was such a bright beautiful sunny day. She smiled as the mockingbirds sang and the squirrels chased each other in the late morning sunshine. She laughed at their antics as they chattered and raced around and around in the trees above her. The summer mountain flowers were in full bloom all along the path as she walked.

She wore her old flight attendant’s uniform, cut off at just above the knees with the sleeves rolled up. It was still the lightest and coolest item of clothing that she possessed. The home-made buckskin shirt, pants and moccasins that Duncan made for her were very warm in the winter, but weren’t very good for a warm summer afternoon. The moccasins were the only other thing she wore, since going barefoot amongst a bunch of thorny berry bushes wasn’t a very good idea. Her hair was in pigtails, just like they were when she was a girl and it felt cool and airy in the light morning breeze.

The entire world was alive and she felt alive with it. Since coming to live with Duncan Little in his hideaway cabin in the woods, she’d never been happier in her entire life. She wanted to pick some berries down near the lake while Duncan was away and bake him a pie for when he arrived tomorrow. Cooking was something that she was just now beginning to learn and enjoy. Duncan was surprisingly a very good cook.

Her entire life was utterly different now than it was a year ago. A year ago, she was sunning herself on the beach in Miami on her days off, while she flew all over the world the rest of the time. But since she fell off the airplane and miraculously survived, she lived there with Duncan Little ever since. True, it was a rough life at times. There was no running water and they lived in the middle of the Rocky Mountain highlands completely cut off from the outside world. She had no idea what was happening in the news and couldn’t care less. She didn’t miss the almost constant CNN droning commentary which filled nearly every airport all over the world and was blissfully unaware of the latest fashion trend.

She laughed as she stomped her feet along the rocky trail, stopping for a moment to admire the deer-hide moccasins. They certainly weren’t very chic. But they were ultimately supremely practical here in the wilderness.

She rounded the bend in the trail to where it dipped down to the shimmering high mountain lake and went off into the wild brush. Here the berries grew off in a patch by themselves near the aspen. They were just coming into the peak of ripeness and she smiled when she reached the bush and picked the closest ones putting them into the basket. She winced as a thorn cut her left thumb and a drop of blood appeared and fell down on the grass by her feet.

“Ouch,” she said to herself and put the thumb in her mouth for a moment, holding the basket underneath her arm while she picked with the other hand.

There was a rustle in the undergrowth. There, looking straight at her through the bushes was a mountain lion. Carol’s eyes went wide and she gasped involuntarily. The mountain lion’s tail flicked back and forth but it seemed more curious than aggressive. Carol backed away very slowly, her heart beating a mile a minute in her chest. Without a sound, the mountain lion turned and quickly disappeared back into the bush.

With a small cry of terror, Carol made her way back to the trail, with the basket only half full of berries. She turned around and there by the berry bushes was the mountain lion again, looking at her. She hurried back up the trail, looking back over her shoulder several times until she was nearly at the cabin to see if the mountain lion was still following her. Duncan told her about the mountain lion back on that very first warm spring night with the windows open. She heard him snarl only a few dozen yards from their open window and clung to Duncan in fright.

“Oh, that’s just Top Cat,” he told her. “He won’t hurt you none. He’s just letting the world know he’s king of the mountain.”

Duncan knew everything about the deep woods and had names for all of the animals that lived there with them on the mountainside.

“Ain’t nothing to worry about around here – except for old Deadeye.”

“Deadeye Dick?” She laughed. “The old wild west desperado?”

“No. Deadeye, the griz.”

“The griz?”

“Yeah, the grizzly. Now, he’s the one to avoid. If’n you ever see him – drop what you’re doing and run as fast as you can up the nearest tree. He’s a bad one.”

“You’ve seen him?”

“Only once. He chased me up a tree one time and kept me up there for three full days.”

“Three days?”

“Yeah. I guess he got hungry enough and decided I wasn’t worth waiting on.”

“Why do you call him deadeye for?”

“He must have tangled with a porcupine once and it poked out his right eye. He walks with a limp too, so he’s probably got some quills still in his right paw.”

Carol looked up and could see the cabin just ahead and she breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly, she heard a sound behind her.

“Humph!”

She turned around and there her in the bushes was a very large bear looking at her. His right eye was white and sightless.

Carol screamed and dropped the berries.