Chapter 15

The dirty rat left me.

When practice was over and the place was clearing out ... the sheriff LEFT me. Things might have not been quite so bad but the women stayed ... all five of ‘em ... and Sally.

Bobby and Tommy made arrangements to meet Karen and Sally at Seven o’clock to set up at the Oasis Lounge in the Holiday Inn Thursday. They played Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday nights until close. Tuesdays and Wednesdays off. Wednesdays were new stuff practice. Although once a month Wednesday practice turned into Polka night ... like tonight.

“‘So ... this is the infamous Hairy Medicinewolf,” Sally said.

“Who?” questioned Wendy.

“That guy,” sated Sally. She not only pointed at me ... she thumped me in the chest.

“OW,” I said.

“No,” said Wendy. “That’s my husband, David.” She thumped me in the shoulder. “Who is Harry Medicinewolf?”

Karen wound up ... I stepped back ... Karen is a smith. I know better than to stand up to her thumps.

She turned her worst into a pointed finger...

<Nicely done, Miss Post.>

“It was wasn’t it,” Karen said ... disappointedly. She’d like nothing better than an excuse to knock me down.

“David is David,” said the Denver women ... all four of them. “Who is this Medicinewolf guy?”

Sally and Karen pointed at me. Karen said, “I’ve known him longer than any of you. He’s Hairy ... H A I R Y ... not Harry ... he is NOT a Harold. Take yer shirt off Hairy.”

I did.

“Eww,” said Sally.

“That shows how young you are, Sally. A fur pelt is warm in the lodge,” Karen said. “I’m for bed. I have classes in the morning and teach in the afternoon.” She walked to the painted lodge. “Goodnight. And keep quiet. Folks need their rest.”

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, Catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers... while pointing at each woman wasn’t exactly the best way to chose a bed partner.

I ruminated that fact as I was sleeping in the bunkhouse ... alone.

Sometimes I don’t understand women ... not at all ... no sense of humor ... not even a little bit. They were singly interested in a little push push ... perhaps if I had let them fight it out ... but, No ... you had to be a smart ass.

The bunkhouse beds were marvels in the realm of uncomfortable ... and cold. But I managed. Eventually, I got warm and slept.

During the night I cuddled the warm body ... sleeping ... on ... my ... chest...

Nudging the brink of awake ... nearly there but not quite ... I discovered where the family of skunks slept. The skunks that Karen has been mentioning in her letters and calls.

Well past the brink ... I decided to try and keep a black face on my chest instead of a black butthole ... face is better than the other end.

I had to admit ... they are cute ... from the front. The little ones separately are Kits but a group of them is called a Surfeit ... and a surfeit is too many.

But ... I was past tired and fell asleep ... what ever happened was going to happen ... and there was nothing I could do about it. Any quick movement on my part would only hasten the inevitable. I didn’t want to go there.

In the morning, they were gone. I had made it through the night without raising a stink.

Speaking of stink ... I headed for the two-holer next to the garage. The door was open so I dropped trou and sat.

“Good Morning, Hairy.”