Hard to Chew
Chapter 11

Copyright© 2003 by Sydney

The heat of the sun eventually brought Mary up off the ground. Lifting her head from beneath the blanket wrapped around her, she blinked at the harsh brightness of desert morning sun. The blaring bleat of a goat brought her head around. Several members of the wayward herd had wandered back to the ledge on the canyon wall and stood slaking their thirst in the cool spring water pool. Swinging her head the opposite direction Mary confirmed the battered condition of the shack. A shudder rippled up her spine. Something frightful lurked inside there, but for the life of her, she could not say what. Throwing off the suffocating blanket, Mary took a deep breath, drawing air and calmness into her lungs, standing to survey her home. The quake had wrecked havoc.

Folding her arms beneath her bare breasts to keep the blanket around her, Mary ventured into the shambles of the building. A battered tin cup still dangled from a nail hammered into the wooden wall beside the pool of water. Her eyes widened. Even the violent shaking of the wall had not dislodged it. After draining several cups of water from the spring, she looked around herself in wonder. Half a dozen boards had fallen from the roof. They lay angled from the dirt floor to the walls in a criss-crossed pattern that required weaving around them just to reach the other side.

Sunlight streamed through three gaping holes in wall and ceiling, causing bands of brilliant light to penetrate the muted light within. Clouds of suspended dust floated through spears of sunshine, giving a cheerful glow to the devastation that greeted her wherever she looked inside her home.

Amused at her thought of anything appearing light-hearted in the midst of all the destruction, Mary chuckled to herself. She cocked her head to one side and listened for the familiar voices to have some comment on her amusement. Silence enveloped her, inside and out. The voices seemed to have nothing to say. Righting her head, she smiled. She hadn't wanted their company at the moment, anyway. For some reason she could not quite put her finger on, she knew the voices would not bring her the companionship and comfort she had gained from them in the past. Well, she shrugged. They would talk or be silent, as they chose.

Picking up her discarded dress, Mary fingered its baby blue flowered fabric. Her brows knit as she tried to remember removing it. The evening must have been unusually warm last night, she decided. She must have taken it off before slipping into bed. Mary dropped the rag tag blanket to the floor and slipped the loose fitting frock over her head before walking outside once more. Her intention was to check the outside of the shack before tackling the problem of repairing it. Only five steps from the door another trembler began. The shaking threw her balance off, causing her to stumble like a town drunk for several paces. Before being thrown from her feet she sank to her buttocks, slipping awkwardly to the ground and taking her weight on one hand in the process. Sitting in wide eyed anticipation of further devastation, Mary rubbed at her injured wrist, and waited.

The length and strength of this trembler did not seem as extreme as some of the earlier ones. She could hear a crashing of rocks tumbling from the canyon wall somewhere in the distance, and much closer there was a slight rattle of small stones falling to a new resting place. She heard a single, solid, dull thump from inside the shack. Another stone from the fireplace must have broken loose, she decided. Then, a few more minutes of quivering earth and a silence returned in which she could hear the buzzing of her own blood rushing through her ears. As if to make sure her senses were accurate, Mary sat a moment longer in the dust before rising.

Since the quakes seemed to have spaces of time between them, Mary decided to use this interval of calmness to gather what she needed to survive out here in the open. The shack looked about to fall in upon itself. And in any case, she could not bear to stay cooped up inside during the quakes. The tremors seemed to have brought on a dislike for the building beyond that she had acquired as Patrick's prisoner. Mary carefully made her way past the door jamb that the last trembler had twisted from the shack's frame and left hanging to the side. She gathered the bean pot and cast iron frying pan, a blanket, and a supply of beans. Collecting the tin of matches from the floor beside the fireplace, she hurried outside with her necessities clutched in her arms and pressed to her bosom.

Mary set her collection down in the dust. The day's heat was uncomfortable, but fear of the canyon wall deciding to fall at the next shock of movement kept her from seeking its shade. She gathered an armload of smaller pieces of wood from the woodpile at the side of the shack to make a small fire and drug up a log to sit on. Hot coals put the bean pot to boiling in short order. Humming a nursery tune pulled out of memory, she watched the beans churn through the froth of boiling water. The prospect of eating a meal cheered her. Really, she thought, she could manage nicely, even with things so topsy turvey. Water was no problem and there didn't seem to be a lot that could harm her out here in the open.

Unused to inactivity, Mary looked for something that needed doing. Hands on hips she surveyed the ledge. Yes, she had nearly used up the brushwood that served so nicely for small, hot cooking fires. What was left of Patrick's meager supply of larger wood lay scattered from the quakes. Hefting the hatchet, Mary set to chopping. Her movements were awkward but effective and the pile of neatly stacked kindling grew. Of a sudden, a long snake slithered slowly out from beneath the still scattered larger wood. Stepping back to give the snake room, she must have placed enough vibration into the earth for the reptile to detect her presence. Its tail rose away from the ground and began vibrating with blurring speed. The warning rattle seemed to fill the otherwise still air. Even though this was the first she'd ever seen, Mary recognized the diamond pattern running along its back and sides. But the rattlesnake was still ten feet away from her and really no threat. Had the reptile coiled as Mary understood it did ordinarily, she would surely have backed away, giving it plenty of room to escape. Instead, the snake glided toward her, rapidly closing the distance between them. When its head drew up and away from the ground, its body curled back over itself, Mary froze. Curiosity was replaced with fear so quickly, she hardly breathed between one and the other. Now her breath seemed stuck in her lungs. When the reptile's body encountered a stray branch of wood in its way, it dropped its head, slithered up over the obstruction, then continued its progress towards her with its head once again raised and ready to sink its fangs into flesh. The snake would be close enough to strike at any moment.

 
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