El Espírotu de la Abuela by Buckskin

(Grandmother Spirit)

Word Count 2233

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The Furry Friend Challenge, 2020.
Thanks to Sandy for the help

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The howls carried on the frosty mountain air. Beneath him, the four-year-old gelding danced and tried to run as Johnny fought for control. Hooves slipped in the mud as Dusty scrambled for purchase. The valiant struggle to keep his footing was lost, and he fell, rolling over the rider that, seconds ago, was in the saddle.  

Frozen ground rose to meet him, rocky and unyielding. The impact forced the air from his lungs as a shadow closed about him, darkening the foggy gloom to black. Narrowly missing the threat of the saddle horn crushing his chest, Johnny Madrid Lancer could do nothing as his mount tumbled over his body.

Momentarily stunned, Johnny took a minute to clear his head. He recognized the signs; he was close to blacking out. Slowly, the ringing in his ears began to diminish, and the blurry sight cleared. Two images melded into one, and he risked sitting up. Looking around, he couldn’t locate his horse and knew the gelding had bolted.

“Damn!” he muttered in exasperation. Ol’ Dusty sure ain’t the horse Barranca is! In all honesty, he was glad Barranca was back at Lancer. He would hate to lose Dusty but better him than Barranca. Jughead is probably on his way home when I’m sittin’ here covered in mud an’ freezin’ my ass off! Well, Johnny Boy, better get movin’… if ya can.

Taking stock of his body, Johnny hauled himself to his feet and promptly fell when his knee buckled, refusing to hold his weight, then continued the nasty fall further down the hill to crash into a pile of granite boulders. Blackness enveloped him after his head made contact with a rock, ensuring he would not make it home this night.

<><><><>.

The violent shiver tore through his body, jarring him awake. A kick in the head from a bull would have felt better than the pain residing there now, and his chest registered a fire that burned out of control. But he didn’t feel the worst of it, until he tried to sit up. Who the hell put the dynamite between my ears? Explosions assaulted him, and Johnny fell back on the ground. A groan escaped his lips, and teeth chattered uncontrollably. It would have made him laugh had the pain not been so intense. He rolled on his back, and more hot shards ripped through his chest. Add a few broken ribs to the mix, just for good measure, and Johnny thought all he needed now was a bullet between his eyes. At least the bullet would end his misery. He raised a hand to catch his head as it attempted to fall from his shoulders and felt the warm sticky blood as it trickled down his face.

“Damn!” he muttered again. He knew he had to move, night would settle in soon, and he needed to find shelter. Johnny clenched his teeth and slowly stood up. Once his head stopped spinning, he held his left arm close to his body, a small attempt to ease the agony in his ribs, and took a tentative step, limping badly. And then the next, all the while listening to the eery howls singing a duet with the wind in the trees.

The branch used as a cane broke, sending Johnny sprawling. After one roll, he landed on his back and stared straight up. The stars danced above him, laughing and cheerful, but he didn’t feel their joy, just numbing pain. Hafta move… get… home. And he closed his eyes.

I am here, do not worry, Nieto, I am here. (grandson)

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The tug on his wrist was relentless; he could feel his body jerk as he was dragged across the ground. The wet moss soaked his clothes, and the rocks tore his shirt and gouged his skin. But the pressure on his arm remained strong and steady. Johnny couldn’t piece it together. What was happening? Why he was so cold and wet, and more than that, why wasn’t he on his feet?

Let her help you, do not fight it.

The fleeting whisper drifted through his brain, and then there was nothing.

<><><><>.

He felt the caress on his cheek and opened his eyes. She was there with him, soothing his hurts and humming soft tones. “Niño, you are safe. Do not move; you will only make it worse. Do you remember me, Juanito? I am your Abuela, your mama’s mama. Do you remember sitting on my lap and I would nibble your ear? Be calm, Nieto, we are here to help you.”

<><><><>.

He ached. There wasn’t a square inch of him that wasn’t screaming in pain. What the hell? But he felt warm now and wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next two days. Just snuggle down and hope Scott would take up the slack for a day or two…

But the roaring thunder blasted, reverberating in the head already pounding. How was it still attached to his shoulders? Johnny slowly opened his eyes. The rain was pouring down, and the wind tore through the trees, tearing the leaves from their branches. He turned his head and was met with two yellow eyes that stared into his as a wet nose touched his neck.

What the… and he froze. He remained still but slowly looked away. Direct eye contact was a challenge, and if the wolf responded, Johnny knew, without a doubt, he would lose that fight. Trying to quiet the thunder of his heart, he closed his eyes and stayed still, fighting every instinct that told him to run.

<><><><>

It tickled, just as it had when he was a baby, and his Abuela gently nibbled at his ear. He couldn’t help the grin as it tugged at the corners of his mouth and the goosebumps that spread over his body. The image faded from his dream, and he slept.

The movement at his side was gentle, a shift of the great body seemed to scoot it closer and snuggle against him. Immediately, Johnny felt the heat radiate out, as if a heavy blanket had spread across him. What came next jolted him with the power of a thunderbolt. The great head turned toward him, and with a sigh, lowered to lay across Johnny’s throat and upper chest.

The hushed voice in his head soothed him with encouraging words. Be still, and let her warm you, Nieto. She will not hurt you..

<><><><>

Dreams. Had ta be dreams. How much did I drink last night? It was the only explanation he had. Sleepin’ with a wolf! Dios! Ain’t tellin’ that ta no one! Johnny opened his eyes. It was dark, and he wondered where he was because he definitely was not home at Lancer. It smelled earthy, with a musky scent mixed in. Johnny tried to sit up, but the pain in his head and ribs stopped him. He rolled to his right side and leaned on his elbow, then raised his body. He wanted to shake the haze out of his head but caught the motion before it started.

Johnny blinked and looked around. A den… He was in a den. There was rock overhead, surrounded by boulders that sheltered him from the elements, and a dirt floor kept him dry. He hadn’t dreamt it. How had he got there? He didn’t crawl there, and a flash of memory sparked in his brain. He remembered a firm grip on his arm, yanking him across the ground and… yellow eyes staring into his. A wolf. But why didn’t it attack him?

“Damn, Johnny Boy, when you get yourself into a mess, you don’t fool around, do ya?” He huffed, not really believing what he was seeing but could not discount it either. “Ain’t tellin’ anyone about this! Murdoch’ll have me committed ta one of them places where they lock people up an’ never let ‘em out…”

Slowly, Johnny began to move. He ignored the protest of bruised muscles but ceased his actions when he heard a muffled cadence, even and growing louder when suddenly she entered the den, crowding Johnny aside. Then she dropped the rabbit in front of him. The carcass still, with an open, unseeing eye.  A neat bite at the throat was all it had taken to kill it. The wolf nudged the rabbit closer, an offering, then she settled next to him and snorted in his face, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth and panting.

Johnny stared, then remembered his manners and looked away. A steady thumping on his leg drew his attention as her tail beat out a canine greeting against his calzoneras. And Johnny took a chance. Softly, in low smooth tones, he began to speak.

“You alone out here?”

Two large, densely furred ears perked forward, and the tail thumped again.

“Thanks for breakfast, but I don’t think I can eat that.”

The tail thumped, and the wolf whined, then as if reaching for him, she pawed at his arm.

Should he? Johnny hesitated, then slowly eased his hand, palm up. She watched, satisfied when it didn’t reach out to her, then leaned forward and took a tentative sniff. Slowly, Johnny withdrew his hand and rested it back on the ground. And she pawed his arm again.

Johnny couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “You wanna be friends, Chica?” he slowly lowered himself to the ground once, then continued to watch her. And his eyes soon closed.

<><><><>.

He giggled, Abuela was tickling him again! Johnny opened his eyes, and the nibble at his ear stopped. It wasn’t his Abuela…

Isn’t it, Nieto?

The words whispered to his ears. In the years he’d spent with his mother, she had told Johnny of spirits, the evil brujas waiting to steal naughty little boys away from their families. But in all of those stories, the spirits were bad, dangerous, and never had there been spirits of family. Spirits filled with love.

Now, as he felt her near, her soft fur under his fingers, he had to wonder. A brief gossamer bit of memory drifted through his mind, then, like a wisp of smoke, dissipated. He was sitting on the lap of an older woman… and she was tickling him, nibbling his ear. Had his mother taken him to see his Abuela? Was her spirit now in this wolf?

A soft growl rumbled in her throat. The wolf turned her head to the entrance of the den and stared intensely. Then she walked outside and waited. Johnny found himself holding his breath, what did she hear? She looked back at Johnny and wagged her tail twice and whined. And she was gone.

He laid where he was, not moving. Then he heard it; it was faint, but there.

“Johnny!”

It was Scott! Johnny struggled to the opening of the den. Finding stable footing, he balanced on his left leg and peered through the fog that hampered his sight.

“Johnny!”

“Scott! Over here, Boston! Keep comin’ toward my voice!”

The horse and rider appeared through the gray that blanketed the landscape. Johnny waved, drawing Scott’s attention. Remmie picked his way carefully through the rocks until he was standing at Johnny’s side.

“Johnny! Are you alright, brother?” Scott dismounted, anxious to see to his brother’s welfare. Handing Johnny his canteen, Scott began to access the damage. Not too bad…

“Yeah, Boston, I’m fine!” Johnny claimed unconvincingly as he grabbed for the water.

“Are you able to ride? Looks like you had a bit of trouble.”  

“I’m fine. Did Dusty make it home?” he asked around another long drink.

“Yes, he’s home. And you will be soon. Come on, brother, let’s get out of here!” Scott said with a smile.

Intending on helping Johnny to the horse’s side, Scott noticed the den. “Is this where you took shelter, Johnny?” He bent to peer inside and there, lying in the dirt, was the rabbit.

“Where did this rabbit come from, brother?”

Johnny sighed. “Wouldn’t believe me if I told ya,” trying his best to brush the question away.

And for now, Scott let the inquiry slide.

He mounted Remmie and held out his hand to help Johnny swing up behind him. “So, brother, what did you do out here all alone?”

Johnny scanned the area wanting to get another look at her but couldn’t find her in the rocks and trees.

“Wasn’t alone.” The words were out, and there was no calling them back. Scott wouldn’t believe it…

Scott tensed. “What did you say?”

“Huh? Nothin’, Boston. Nothin’.”

In the rocks high above, she watched as he disappeared into the mist. She would be there for him whenever he needed her, waiting, watching, hoping… loving.

Te amo, Nieto! Her declaration issued as she raised her great head, her baying echoed, resonating off the mountainsides.

Johnny heard it then. Far away but louder, now, as the howl traveled on the wind. She was there for him as she had always been, but now, she was not tucked away in a dark corner of his memory. And he remembered.

Te amo, Abuela! And Johnny smiled, imaging her warmth as she nuzzled his neck.

Scott needed to know. “You want to tell me about the rabbit?”

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~ end ~
June 2020

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