One Particular Patriot I

Denver's hands were shaking and his lips were trembling. I was unsure if it was his physical ailment or it was reliving the day's events that caused his bout of tremors. He lifted his glass of whiskey on ice to his lips. After a long sip of the distillate, he began again, still visibly shaken by the recounting of the story. I intently listened for more. No one else in the cabin made a sound. Only then did I realize Scott had turned the radio off. “I stood up and braced against that big ol' tree, steadying myself as I looked around me. The hill I was on was tolerably steep, much like where I had been, but different. And them trees were lots bigger and spaced further apart than before. It was kind of pretty that way though. But, I had to find my rifle. I figured I must have dozed off or something and my rifle slipped out of my arms or something. That meant it had to have slid down hill. So I took a step to walk down hill to look for it. That's when I realized I didn't have on any boots. Actually, I think that's when I actually realized I didn't have on much clothes at all, just them long-johns. My rifle was gone, my ammo pack was gone…even my knife and the nylon belt that held it was gone. The seams on my long-johns were kind of unraveled looking and with the elastic gone, it was making everything sag a bit. I was in these woods unarmed and near naked. I was scared. And you would be too, I think.” He stared at me, then Scott. Denver had stopped for another sip of whiskey. I watched his eyes and face for the telltale signs of a good story teller. His story was beginning to labor too long and I wondered where it was leading. Aaron fidgeted behind me. I looked toward him and smiled assurance. “It seemed like I had stood there for an hour before I started formulating a plan. Actually, the sound of a hound dog barking was what got me to thinking `bout what to do next. It was coming through the woods, sniffing the ground like it was tracking something. I watched it coming, not right toward me, but in my general direction. I stood still, not wanting to startle him. Most hounds are pretty tame, but I didn't know this one…and I didn't have a weapon. I expected it would scent me anytime though.” “What did the dog look like?” Aaron broke in. “Ah, huh…” Denver was taken aback that someone had stopped his story. “Oh, it was a black and tan from what I could tell. Just a hound dog. Heavier than most I've seen, bigger, you know, not fat.” Denver returned to his story. “The hound came through the woods, casting about like it was trying to pick up a trail that he knew was somewhere around but he couldn't quite find. I watched him for maybe thirty minutes, but he never did catch scent of me. I don't know how he could have missed my trail coming in to that spot, because he was all around me sniffing and sounding. I just stood as still as I could. I thought once about yelling at him, but decided not to. Finally, he moved on out of my range.” “But, before I could think of something else to do, I heard something walking through the woods, kind of quiet. I figured it might be a doe, coming in behind the dog kind of curious like. You know how they will follow a coyote sometimes.” He paused and looked to us for affirmation of his insight. Once he saw us nod agreement, he began again. “It wasn't. Suddenly, these two fellas dressed like Indians came slipping through the woods. They both carried muzzleloaders, real old-timey looking ones from what I could tell. They didn't have on hunter orange either, which made me think to take mine off if I was going to be hid. Of course, then I remembered I didn't have on anything but my long-johns and a t-shirt and some saggy socks. The shirt was camo colored and the long-johns were Army green, so I wasn't too worried since I blended in pretty good…I thought. I just stood real still and watched'em go by. My sigh of relief was too soon. They come back, behind me. I couldn't move without being seen, so I couldn't watch'em. Didn't matter. They seemed to know I wouldn't watch as they went circling around and behind the big ol' tree. Next thing I know, they've grabbed me by the arms and pushed me to the ground. I was pure scared.”