Blood-Lines

Part 3

Sheriff Augustus Poe was impressed, but not entirely surprised when Cat found the chalk marks that Running-Deer had left for them to follow.

Her horse had also been located not all that far from the start of the trail, where it quietly chewed grass and wandered about as if in wait for their missing Indian.

"G'dammit, if I have told her once ..." Poe started with a sigh of clear annoyance laced thick with anger.

"You have told her at least a dozen times ..." Cat finished for him, as the massive Negro dismounted and began to walk the area as he looked for sign. "... but, to be honest and entirely fair to our missing friend, for such an old worn out white-man who wears a sheriff's pin as you do, it is also as clear that even you should have known better by now. She was raised as an Indian after all, now wasn't she."

With care to avoid damage to his leg brace, Poe also dismounted to examine Running-Deer's horse.

Sure enough, the saddle bags held her city clothes and weapons or what she often referred to as the poorer choices white people had to work with.

"Cat, our Indian is stalking that man with just her bow and fucking knives." Poe announced evenly. "I should never have let her chase him alone. Once native always native no matter how long you try to change their ways ... G'dammit anyway!"

Poe tied-off the reigns of her horse to his saddle before high stepping into the stirrup as he climbed back up and gestured for Cat to follow the chalk line ahead.

"Please lead your own g'dammed horse. I'm fairly sure he finds himself big enough to think he that would not have to follow the likes of someone as scrawny and white as me."

"Sheriff ..." Cat replied with much muse, while not taking his eyes off the trail as he moved ahead. "If I've ever told you once, I must have told you a thousand times ..."

Poe finished for him as Cat's voice trailed off.

"It's not the size of the man but the methods of choice that make the impressions on bad men and often good looking young women properly and in perspective of the lay of their land."

Poe shook his head as Cat's laughter rolled ahead of him.

"No one likes a smart ass Negro, Cat. Even one who chose to use a smallish feline name associated with pussy, kitty or Cat. Lay of their land my ass." which only brought more laughter from the big man.

Now that the growing anger and annoyance had been dealt with, there was again hope that they would find their missing Indian and her weapons of choice.

As far as hand to hand combat may have been concerned, Running-Deer was nowhere near your average squaw when confronted, of that Poe was more than sure.

Everything from here on how would entirely depend on the man who she'd gone after.

And that's what worried him more than anything else.

She may have been hunting a lycan who, in turn, may also have begun to hunt her and she would have had little or no idea until things got way out of hand.

For now the chalk-line that she'd left behind remained their only hope.