Beyond Cuckoo

With the wind and a few distant coyotes as her only company, River pulled the blanket closer. She longed for the touch of a human hand and tried to recall how it felt to be wanted. She had given up on love long ago, but hated to be alone. Men didn’t stick around, but at least they didn’t pummel her like the women in her life.

As a child, River lived in a house where the women hated her. Her Mother resented the chore of motherhood and all she could remember of her sister was her scowl. An alcoholic Father was there in sober times, but lacked the balls to intervene in family drama–hen-pecked into submission.

“So where do I go from here?” she asked the constellations as they moved across the sky. Dusty Cooke’s body would ultimately be discovered by some hiker at the canyon bottom. Could they trace the death to her? Probably—maybe not. Boy did she deserve it and the river, her river, deserved saving. One individual’s death was a small price for the lives of many—animals, plants, and yes, even humans.

River stoked the fire and adjusted the pans on the grill. Her favorite meal of macaroni and cheese, steamed in a covered dish. Not as good as baked, but it would do—comfort food after the day she had. She pushed the image of Dusty coming at her, and how she stepped aside in time, to let her attacker fall to her death. She closed her mind’s eye to forget the scene entirely. Yes, that was the answer—it never happened.

Smiling, River scarfed her dinner, wiped out the pans with water from her cooler and settled into the sleeping bag. Tomorrow she’d go back to town and call her boss. Wrong? Nothing was, or was going to be, wrong.

** Another teaser for upcoming novel, “River”. Research involves environmental and political issue of the U.S. Southwest desert. Help me out: Send any pertinent information to– elaine@mediadesign-mds.com