Cat. R C Hilty
“What, you taking psychology 101 in high school?”
“Very funny.”
“I’m sure that there is something you want from me. Nobody tries this hard to be friends with a grumpy old man like me for no reason.”
“Maybe I like a challenge.”
“Now, cut the bullshit and tell me what you really want.”
“You got me. Yes, there is something I’d like you to do.”
“I knew it. What is it?
“I would like you to teach me how to shoot long-range, like a thousand yards or better.”
Mike was quite for a little bit. She has been going through all this just to get me to teach her how to shoot. This would take a little thinking. Will I be able to stand her being around all the time? Like she stays away now just like a stray dog always coming back. Judge Bean had been telling him that Cat had been holding her own on the rifle team. It has been a long time since he had done any shooting. The most he had done in the last few years was take his rifles out, clean and oil them, then put them back in the safe.
Cat just looked at Mike for a while, wondering what he was thinking. “Well, you gonna teach me or not?”
“What makes you think I can teach you?”
“Well, according to the judge, you knocked a nut out of a squirrel’s mouth at 200 yards and didn’t hurt the squirrel.”
“It was 250, but I did have a hundred dollar bet on that shot.”
“Think I’d be able to do that?”
“I heard you shot a knife off your brother’s belt.”
Cat put her head down and with a sheepish grin said, “Yeah, he kind of made me mad.”
“You know, that was pretty stupid.”
“Oh yeah, Mom and Dad let me know that!”
“What about your brother?”
“He didn’t say much. He never messed with my stuff after that.”
“Smart boy. If you ever pull a stunt like that with me, I’ll quit teaching you.”
Cat smiled. “Is that a yes?”
“Might as well, don’t look like I am gonna get rid of ya.
Cat gave Mike a big hug. “Thank you.”
“Now, don’t start getting mushy. Ruin my reputation.”
“Okay, okay, when do we start?”
“I suppose a week from Saturday after I get back from town. There had better be a maple cream doughnut on my bench.”
“You bet. I better get going. I’m gonna stop in and see Widow Johnson. See ya Saturday.”
“Remember, maple cream on my bench every Saturday.”
As Cat left, Mike was talking to himself, “Oh, Lord, what have I gotten myself into? I hope this is a blessing, not a test.” He looked up. “Probably both.”
He sat down in front of the TV. He was glad no one could see the little smile he had. Teaching Cat to shoot would give him a sense of purpose.
Cat knocked on Widow Johnson’s door. She opened the door. “Hi, Cat, come on in. How have you been?”
“Doing great. Just thought I would stop by to see how you and the kids were doing. Do you need anything?”
“We are doing fine. I hate to ask, but the boys would sure like some more venison. We’ve been out for a bit. But now, don’t do it if you’ll get in trouble.”
“No reason I can’t, as long as you don’t mind me showing up in the middle of the night.”
“Bless your heart.”
*****
Friday after Cat got home from school, she started packing her backpack. Betty came into her room.
“Going camping again this weekend?”
“Yeah, after I get my chores done and eat supper.”
“I should be used to it by now. I can’t help but worry about you when you’re out there by yourself.”
“As you have said, that’s a mother’s job to worry about her kids.”
After supper Cat put on her backpack, picked up her shotgun, and hiked to the cave. She set up camp. She had a camp stove, a sleeping bag, and other supplies hidden in the cave.
Cat started to hike over to the big rock. Something didn’t seem right. There weren’t any animals around like there usually were. A putrid odor filled the usually fresh clean air of the hills. The fumes of ammonia, battery acid, and lye burned her eyes and nose. She knew it would be best to turn around and go home. She thought to herself, I’ll just get to the rock and see if I can find out the source that wretched odor. After getting to the rock, she looked down the hill. She saw a black pickup truck with a small camping trailer hooked to it. The odor was coming from the trailer. Two guys were standing around a campfire. She backed up behind the rock. Her mind was racing. What do I do? Go get help? Okay, calm down, get a better look. She used the scope on her shotgun to get a better look. They were drinking. As she scanned the area, she saw another man beating a guy tied to a small tree. Oh, this ain’t good. She got a better look at the guy tied to the tree. It was Officer Conrad. He had been badly beaten. Cat slid behind the rock again. Her heart was beating so hard she was afraid it would come out of her chest.
Talking to herself, she said, “Cat, calm down. Think this through. Do something stupid, and both of you will get killed. That’d really piss Mom off.”
*****
“What’s the matter, Warden? Want a drink?” one of the thugs said as he poured whiskey on the warden’s head. He kicked him in the ribs. “Does that hurt? Teach you to mind your own business.”
Officer Conrad could barely hold his head up, spitting out blood. “You can rot in hell.”
“After you. I ain’t the one tied up. I could be nice and put a bullet in your head, but I think I’ll just let you die a slow death. We’re about done with this batch.”
One of the other dirt bags said, “Get over here and help unhook this trailer. We need to get some more ammonia and lye. We might as well cook another batch.”
“All right, while you two are in town, get another bottle of whiskey. I’m gonna to stay here and play with the warden.”
“That’s all you need. Give me the warden’s radio so we can tell if we’ve been reported.”
As the other two left, he went back to the warden. The warden had passed out. “What’s the matter, sleepy?” When he didn’t get a response, he dumped some water on him.
The warden opened his eyes, “Go to hell.”
“Maybe we will just force some meth down your throat before we leave you to die.”
*****
After Cat calmed herself down, she looked through her scope again, thinking, I know I can hit one, maybe two. No way can I get all three before they kill the warden. Maybe if I kill the one closest to the warden, it will give me time to hit the other two. No, probably not. At least one of the others would be a moving target. Then she saw two of them get in the truck and leave. If I shoot the one that’s still here, the other two may hear the shot and come back. Watching the thug beating the warden, she knew she had to do something pretty quick. As she was contemplating what to do, the thug headed back to the campfire. He took another drink and fell down. Maybe he passed out. I’d better make my move. Cat snuck down to the warden, walking up behind him. She put her hand over his mouth so that he wouldn’t yell.
“It’s