It wasn’t the birds chirping that roused me or the burning sun on my bare skin. I think it was the almond-shaped part of my brain, the amygdala, that woke me. The part that senses fear. My eyes burst open like a star exploding, and I quickly sat up—discovering I was alone in the pasture, naked, with only a picnic blanket covering me. I snapped my head to the right, nothing. To the left, nothing. I looked ahead toward the ranch, my hand shading my eyes from the sun, and I saw nothing. Where was Calvin?
From behind me a raspy loud purr grumbled—the sound of an overgrown housecat. Slowly, I turned my head, and there it was, the thing Calvin said I had nothing to worry about, the creature that never came this far. Its coat was tan with black markings decorating the tips of its ears and snout. Its head was lowered, and its shoulders raised as if it were hunting its prey. Its eyes were yellow like the fresh flame of a candle. Ten yards separated me from the mountain lion. I stood up deliberately, keeping the blanket wrapped around my body, trying to make myself look bigger. It didn’t budge. It crept closer, a few more steps. Without taking my eyes off of it, I bent down and picked up the platter of cheese and grapes. I tossed it at the animal like I was throwing a Frisbee, hoping that it would distract it or scare it away. But all it did was bring it closer. The creature sniffed the food but lost interest immediately. Eight yards away. It returned its gaze to me, dropping its head, creeping closer. Never breaking eye contact, I picked up an empty bottle of wine and threw it as hard as I could. When it hit the ground just in front of its paws, the mountain lion jumped back and paused for a moment—like it was considering retreating, but it didn’t. It kept tiptoeing toward me. I picked up the full bottle of wine Calvin and I hadn’t drunk. Winding my arm back, I hurled it. It must have hit a rock because as soon as it touched the ground it shattered, red wine splashing everywhere. The animal crouched back, but curiosity got the best of it. And it walked to where the wine bottle had crashed, only seven yards away. I started backing up as it sniffed and licked at the spilled wine, hoping that would give me the time I needed to get away. Where the hell was Calvin?
I backed up several more steps before it looked up again, losing interest in the spilled wine and regaining curiosity in me. I glanced around in search of a rock or something to throw, but there was nothing.
“Calvin!” I screamed as loud as I possibly could. My voice cracked, my heart raced, and my skin perspired. Is this what it felt like to be hunted?
I continued edging backward while it persisted toward me. It had its mind made up.
“Calvin!” I screamed even louder.
How could he have left me out here? Was everything he told me a lie?
My heart rate increased as the creature’s steps doubled mine. I tried to make my movements bigger and bigger. I refused to turn around and run. I knew it could easily outrun me, so if it was going to attack, I wanted to see it coming. My heel caught on something large and hard, and I fell to the ground—only realizing it was a rock after I hit the earth with a thud. The mountain lion went from a walk to a jog to a full-on sprint when I was horizontal, knowing that I was at my weakest, an easy prey.
I forced my eyes open, waiting for it. It must have leapt or pounced or whatever it was that large cats did because it was in the air flying at me. Its dandelion yellow eyes fixated on its prey. Its retractable claws fully emerged. Time slowed down. I think time slows down for everyone’s final moments.
Then there was a burst of red followed by a loud, echoing bang.
The mountain lion slammed onto my lower half. Red sticky blood sprayed all over me. The smell of iron invaded my nose. I shimmied away, pushing the corpse off while keeping the blanket wrapped around my body. My breaths were quick and uncontrolled as I crab-walked away, digging my heels into the ground, propelling myself farther from the dead animal.
Turning my head, my eyes found Calvin. He stood twenty yards back, looking down the scope of a hunting rifle, dressed in only blue jeans and untied farm boots. He lowered the gun and ran toward me, screaming my name.
“I’m so sorry. Are you okay, Grace?” he said, kneeling beside me. His hands wiped at the blood that covered my skin, but I’m sure it just smeared it around.
I gritted my teeth. “You said mountain lions didn’t come this far.”
“They usually don’t.” He shook his head, looking at the animal and then back at me. “The barbecue or the food out here must have attracted it or maybe it’s infected with rabies.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. Blood clung to his lips.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, but I was still shaking. I was not okay. How could he have left me out here? “Where were you?” My eyes narrowed, moving from the fallen beast to Calvin.
“I was inside making breakfast. I was going to bring it out to you.” He pushed my blood-soaked hair out of my face. “I’m sorry.”
I shoved away from him and stood, wiping my skin with the corner of the white sheet.
“I’m going to shower.” I wrapped the blanket tighter around my bust and started off toward the ranch.
“I really am sorry, Grace,” he called out. The words rang hollow.
As I reached the driveway, a sheriff’s vehicle turned into it. I knew when they spotted me because the vehicle went from five miles per hour to thirty in a few seconds. Shit.
The driver slammed on his brakes just in front of me and jumped out of his vehicle. I recognized him immediately—Sheriff Almond.
“Good lord! Ma’am, are you all right?” He drew his gun and scanned all around, his eyes like pendulums.
I knew how it looked. This was the man looking for a missing woman and here I was, covered in blood and practically naked.
“Put your hands up!” the sheriff yelled, pointing his gun just over my shoulder.
I turned to find Calvin walking across the pasture with his rifle slung over his shoulder. His eyes went wide and his face paled like a ghost. Calvin dropped the rifle to the ground and shot his hands up toward the sky.
“Get behind me,” the sheriff said as he put himself between me and Calvin. “Down on the ground,” he yelled.
Calvin dropped to his knees.
“Sir, it’s not what it looks like!” I shouted. The last thing I needed was to get wrapped up in a police shooting. “A mountain lion attacked me.”
Sheriff Almond glanced at me and then back at Calvin. He didn’t look convinced at all.
“It’s true,” Calvin said. “The body is in the field. I can show you.”
He hesitated, keeping his pistol pointed at Calvin.
“He’s telling the truth,” I added.
Sheriff Almond let out a sigh and lowered his weapon. “All right, show it to me.” He gestured with his hand.