CHAPTER 11

          Clowers rose early and flew off toward the sunrise, then began a long spiral pattern around the area, scanning for pursuing Ranchers or any sign of predators. Leading a calf alone into the wilderness was turning in to a full time job. He missed his free and easy lifestyle, soaring over his vast territory and now and then hanging out with his buddies. Maybe he should’ve thought it through a little better.

     A few miles west of where he’d left the calf, the raven cleared the top of a hill and looked down into a large flat clearing with a stream running through it. A small band of bison were gathered in the meadow.  Some of the shaggy brown cows were rolling in the dirt wallows they’d created to rid themselves of pesky insects. Dust rose up around them as they squirmed in the shallow depressions. The rest of the cows and several bulls were walking slowly with their large heavy heads moving from side to side as they grazed. A few calves chased each other around the grassy meadow, their short red fur shining in the morning sunlight. Wait a minute! Clowers had an idea. He straightened his path and flew back to where Mark waited under the trees.

“Good morning,” Clowers greeted the sleepy eyed calf.

“Morning,” Mark mumbled. He hadn’t slept well. Awakened by every little sound, he had trouble getting back to sleep. The nights back in the pasture, when he’d been oblivious of danger, had been much more peaceful.

“Ready to get going?” the Raven asked.

“Sure, just let me stretch a little.”

Mark stood up, stretched his front legs then his back, and took a few steps.

“Are the Ranchers coming after me?” he asked half hopefully.

“Nope” the bird said, “Looks like they haven’t started out yet, but believe me, they will.”

“How am I going to keep from getting caught?” Mark asked.

“I’ve got an idea. But at your pace it ought to take a good part of the day to get there, so we need to get going.”

“Where?”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

     The forest undergrowth was too dense for Clowers to fly through, and Mark couldn’t see him if he flew above the trees, so the big black bird perched himself on the calf’s back. As they traveled Clowers explained about the bison. Mark was intrigued at the thought of meeting animals that Clowers said were an ancient wild breed of cattle.

“You’ll be safer in a herd,” the raven said.

“But how do you know they’ll let me stay with them?”

“Good point,” Clowers said, “I guess I should go and talk to them first. I’ll fly over after lunch and have a little chat with the chief.”

     The sun was almost straight overhead when Mark came to a place where the trees abruptly ended and a swath of bare dirt stretched from north to south.

“Hold it!” Clowers said.

Mark stopped at the edge of the woods.

“What is it?”

“A human trail. There might be someone nearby. Let me go first, see if it’s clear.”

The raven lifted off and banked north, flying a short way up the road before turning and checking out the southern portion. He flew back to where Mark waited under the cover of the trees.

“OK now,” Clowers urged, “go fast.”

Mark sprinted across the open ground and scurried into the brush on the other side. He stopped and waited for Clowers to come perch on his back. But Clowers was wheeling above the road in tight circles, looking to the south.

Mark heard the approaching whine of some strange animal. He turned and looked back just as it whizzed by. All Mark could see was a cloud of dust. Clowers waited until the thing disappeared up the road then returned to his traveling companion.

“What was that?” Mark asked.

“Just a Ranger,” the bird replied.

“What’s a Rancher doing out here in the wilderness? Are they looking for me?”

“Not a Rancher, a Ranger. They’re all over out here. But they don’t do much, just ride around these trails on those noisy things.”

“Are they mean to the animals, like the Ranchers?”

“Naw, rarely see ‘em harassing anyone. Although a black bear once told me he’d been caught by one. He said he’d been overcome with paralysis, couldn’t move. The Ranger had poked and prodded and punched a tag into his ear, then let him go. Haw! Haw! Can you believe that?”

“I can believe it. Sounds just like what the Ranchers did to me.”

Clowers nodded and said, “I guess it’s best to avoid all two-leggeds, Ranchers, Rangers and whatnot.”

    They were near the edge of the clearing where Clowers had seen the bison. He told Mark to stay put while he rose up through the trees and flew over the meadow. Spotting the largest bull grazing near the stream, he spiraled down to land just a few feet from the colossal animal’s nose.

“Good afternoon” he said and took a few steps closer, knowing that bison didn’t have very good eyesight.

     The bull lifted his head, continuing to chew a mouthful of grass while he observed the raven. Half a minute passed before he finally swallowed and replied, “Yes, it certainly is. Have you come to discuss the quality of the day or do you seek more substantial conversation?”

“I’ve come to ask for the help of your herd,” Clowers said.

“Interesting. How can we help you?”

“I have a friend with me, waiting in the forest. He’s young, naïve. He needs protection and perhaps a little education.”

“And this friend is also a raven?”

“No”

“Ah, I thought not.”

“He’s a calf from a cattle herd. I helped him escape from a ranch.”

“That seems unwise.”

“Yeah, I see that now, but he won’t go back. He insists on having his freedom. I can’t protect him from predators. I thought maybe you…”

“Would take him in?” the bison snorted, “Why should we admit a mutant into the One True Herd?”

“Well, could you at least keep him for a few days and teach him something about survival in the wild?” Clowers said, “I can’t keep looking out for him, I’ve got my rounds to make.”

“Bring him to the Wisdom Council at sundown, we will decide then.”

The bison bowed his head and stomped the ground with his heavy left hoof. Clowers dipped his beak and scratched the dirt with his talons, then lifted off and wheeled back to the forest.

     As the sun set behind the western slope, Clowers led Mark into the clearing where seven bison were gathered in a circle, their enormous horned heads facing the center. Mark was astounded. They did resemble cattle, but the hump over their shoulders, the course shaggy mane and long beard gave them a strange primitive look.

     The big bull Clowers had spoken to earlier walked out to meet the raven and calf, then silently escorted them back to the group, indicating that Mark should enter the circle and stand in the center. Clowers walked in with him and stood next to the trembling calf. Mark looked around at the seven dark hairy faces staring at him, their enormous humps rising behind their heads. All except one, a slenderer blond cow, seemed to be frowning. Despite his desire to meet the animals of the wilderness, he wished it were under friendlier circumstances.

     “I, Chenowetho the Wisdomkeeper,” the lead bull began, “put before my fellow council members this calf, who has come to us from the human place seeking freedom. He asks our protection to join the Natural Order. What say you?”

Mark looked around at the bison staring at him with placid expressions. A thin bull spoke;

“I, Campbello the Wisdomkeeper, do not see the joining of this mutant with our herd as beneficial to either. The calf should go back where he belongs.”

Mark gasped, and opened his mouth to speak, but Clowers gave him a quick peck on the foreleg.

A light coated bull spoke next;

“I, Chaplino the Wisdomkeeper, believing this calf to be unusually courageous in journeying so far from the human place, do sympathize with his quest for a better life, and would ask that we welcome him.”

 “One for and one against,” Chenowetho announced, “what say you Calvino?”

A lean muscular bull with a dark mane spoke;

“I, Calvino the Wisdomkeeper, agree with Chaplino. The calf has come this far, indicating his bravery and willingness to seek the Natural Order. He should be encouraged.”

A small cow, thin and frail with age said;

“I, Krahea the Wisdomkeeper, though impressed with the mutant’s accomplishment thus far, believe he cannot survive the wild and think it best that he return to the safety of the human place. Though his life there may be short, it could be far less brutal.”

Mark turned to Clowers and whispered; “What did she mean by that?”

“Shhhh!” Clowers hissed.

“I, Caponia the Wisdomkeeper,” said another cow, larger and much younger than the previous one, “am in agreement with those who believe the calf has proved himself worthy of our help. Courage and curiosity, so rare in the mutant species, should be rewarded.”

Chenowetho turned his head toward the only bison who had yet to speak, the slender blond cow with the pleasant expression, and said, “The count is three for and two against, what say you Sophia?”

The cow looked kindly at Mark.

“I, Sophia the Wisdomkeeper,” she said in a soft voice, “having never heard of a mutant willing to leave the human place for the sake of freedom, say this calf is special and should stay here with us. I myself will protect and teach him.” She gave Mark a wink.

“Very well,” Chenowetho said, “It has been decided by the council that the calf shall remain. Sophia will take him under her care and teach him. But as circumstance demands, we shall all be his protectors and teachers.”

The great bull stomped his left hoof and bowed. The other bison did likewise, then turned and walked slowly across the meadow. Only Sophia remained.

“What is your name sweetie?”

“M-Mark”

“Fear not Marko. You will be well cared for”

Clowers, strutted toward her and said, “He’s just a little nervous, but he’ll be fine. Thanks lady, I gotta go. Been off my rounds for several days now and I’m feeling restless as hell. Haw Haw. See ya kid, have fun out there.” And he took off into the eastern sky.

CHAPTER 12
     Connie was surprised at how far the calf had gone in so short a time. Normally strays would just wander around grazing a limited area and could be found fairly near to where they’d escaped. This calf almost seemed to be moving with purpose, higher into the mountains and deeper into the forest.

     They’d crossed the border into Yellowstone just before sunset and found a suitable campsite near a stream. Walker had offered to collect firewood, but he was gone several hours, arriving back at camp when it was dark with just a small armload.

“Must’ve got lost…heh heh,” he said when Connie questioned his long absence, but she suspected he’d just gone off to avoid having to help her set up camp and take care of the horses. She’d removed their saddles and bridles, and taken them to the stream to drink, then tethered them in a patch of grass. She fed the dogs and by the time Walker arrived she had dinner ready; a couple of MREs cooked with water boiled on a propane stove. The only thing she hadn’t done was set up Walker’s tent for him. It was a guilty pleasure watching him struggle with the erection of his nylon abode.

     In the morning as Connie was getting ready to saddle her horse, Walker disappeared again “on personal business.” Connie had both horses ready to go by the time he returned. With all of the extra work she was doing to take care of him and his horse, this guy was more of a hindrance than a help. She hoped they found the calf soon, otherwise it would mean several more nights out here with the buffoon.

     Wolfy picked up the trail again right away and led them further west into the dense forest. Rover took off early and they didn’t see him again for several hours. In the early afternoon, when they stopped for a lunch of prepacked sandwiches, Rover showed up just in time to suck the crusts out of Walker’s hand. Figures, thought Connie, all play and no work, just like his master. Although Connie wasn’t sure just who was the master of whom.

     Emerging from the trees onto a narrow dirt road, Wolfy stood with his ears alert, looking northward up the trail. Connie stopped and listened too, but Walker was yammering about some prank he’d pulled in college with his fraternity buddies.

“Shhh listen!” She frowned at him.

     Walker stopped talking. Rover barked and took off up the road. Wolfy barked also, but stayed put. A sort of high pitched purring noise could be heard in the direction Rover had gone. It got louder and soon a four wheel ATV appeared. The park ranger pulled to a stop at the side of the road and took off her helmet. A thicket of wavy blond hair fell around her shoulders. Above the pocket of her khaki shirt, a nametag read “Maya.”

     Rover appeared out of the cloud of dust behind the ATV, still barking obsessively at the back tires.

Maya glanced back at the dog and smiled.

“Shut up Rover,” Connie yelled, “sorry about that,” she said to the pretty young ranger.

“You folks are a good ways up here. Camping trip?” Maya said eying their bedrolls and saddlebags.

Connie frowned and shook her head. “Looking for a stray bull calf, escaped from the Bar W a few days ago,” she replied.

“The Bar W! You are a long way out. You say their calf is all the way up here?”

“Our calf,” Connie corrected her, “from the Casablanca. It was being fostered by a Bar W cow.”

“One of DC Powers’ animals huh?”

The ranger was obviously familiar with the senator’s holdings in the area. Walker couldn’t stand it any longer. He broke in; “I’m the official representative.”

Maya gave him an amused smile and Connie, ignoring him altogether said, “Are we near the East entrance of the park?”

“Yes, it’s about three miles to the south” the ranger said pointing down the road.

Would you send a message back to the Casablanca for us? I can’t get any cell service up here.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Tell Rum Feldon to have someone prepare to meet us with a trailer. When we get the calf we’ll bring him out this way.”

“Got it,” the ranger said, “good luck.”

She put her helmet on and started the engine. Rover, who’d been sniffing around the rear of the ATV started barking again. Walker offered; “I’ll get him.”

He swung down from the saddle and strolled over to the dog, jerked him by the collar and held him while the ranger drove away.

CHAPTER 13
 

     Sophia was grazing next to him when Mark woke in the morning. He peered at her for a few moments, fascinated by her shaggy mane and humpbacked shoulders. She was almost twice as big as his mother, but still smaller than the bulls, whose massive size was more than a little intimidating to the calf.

     Mark got up and joined Sophia for breakfast. He hadn’t eaten much the last few days and it felt good to graze for hours on end. Together they browsed the wild grasses, weeds and flowers of the meadow until almost midday.

     There had been a lot of talk in the herd about the mutant visitor. The bison calves were curious and took turns skirting near to get a closer look, but none of them dared approach him directly. Since they hadn’t yet developed their humps, and their coats hadn’t changed from red to brown, the stranger didn’t look much different from them. But it wasn’t his appearance that made him strange. It was the fact that while they had been born of the One True Herd, he had been created through selective breeding by the humans. That made him a freak.

     In the early afternoon Sophia and Mark lay down to chew cud. Noticing Mark’s frequent glances at the other calves, she asked, “Would you like to go play now?”

“Not now,” Mark said, “I want to learn about the Natural Order first. They all know about it right?” he looked at the calves splashing each other in the stream.

“They were born knowing it,” Sophia said, “all wild animals are.”

“Why don’t cattle know it?”

“They’ve lost their wisdom, they’ve become confused by domestication.”

“Do-mes-ti-ca-tion.” Mark pronounced carefully, “What’s that?”

“It’s what humans do to animals they’ve forced to live in captivity. It started a long time ago, many many generations back, when a human built the first fence…”

“Fence! I know what that is.” Mark said.

“Yes of course you do,” Sophia smiled and went on, “The humans trapped some wild animals behind the fence.”

“Cattle?”

“Yes, but they were wild cattle.”

“You mean like bison?”

“Yes,” Sophia said patiently, “After living behind the fence for a long time, the cattle began to lose their memory. They forgot how to be wild.”

“Will you help me remember Sophia?”

“Yes Marko, I’ll help you.”

Mark got up and stretched, he looked over at the calves. They’d left the stream and were chasing each other around a daisy patch.

“I think I’ll go play now,” he told Sophia.

“That’s a good idea, we’ll talk some more later.”

     Mark walked toward the group gamboling through the daisies. Something bumped softly against his thigh. “You’re it,” a young bull said and jumped away before Mark had time to realize he’d just been included in the game. The calves scattered and Mark tossed his head and ran after them.

     When the game was over, his new friends wanted to know all about where he came from and what the human place was like. Several of them nibbled at the green plastic tag in his ear and sniffed his brand.

“Did it hurt?” a young pretty cow named Libertia asked.

“Yeah it sure did.”

“How brave you must be,” she said.

     Mark felt a rush of warmth through his whole body. Something about the way Libertia looked at him with her big brown eyes, gave him a feeling he’d never had before. The other calves were ready to move on to another game, but Mark and Libertia both said they were too tired and laid down in the daisy patch.

“Libertia?” Mark said, “What’s a Wisdomkeeper?”

“It’s a bison who has the Dreaming”

“What’s that?”

“Oh. Cattle don’t Dream?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so. Is it like memory?” Mark said, thinking about Sophia’s story of domestication.

“Sort of I guess, but they can Dream the future as well as the past, and they Dream of faraway places they’ve never been. My father’s a Wisdomkeeper.”

“Which one?” Mark said.

“Chenowetho.”

“He didn’t vote.”

“Excuse me?”

“Last night when the council voted whether to keep me or not. You’re father didn’t vote.”

“He didn’t need to, the count was already four to two.”

“But how would he have voted if it was a tie?”

Libertia looked down at the white daisies. She stuck out her tongue and tasted the petals.

“Well?” Mark pressed her.

“But it wasn’t a tie.”

“Come on.”

“I heard him say he thought uncle Campbello was right,” Libertia said and looked away.

“He doesn’t think I belong here?”

“I think you belong here.”

“You’re not a Wisdomkeeper.”

“So what I think doesn’t matter?” Libertia jumped to her feet.

Mark got up too, “No, I mean yes, I mean, it matters…it matters to me.”

“You’d better be nice to me, I might be a Wisdomkeeper someday. It runs in the family.” She poked Mark in the shoulder with her nose and laughed, then took off across the meadow. Mark felt that warm rush again.

     “The Natural Order is what keeps everything in balance,” Sophia began. Mark rested beside her, sleepy but still attentive. “All wild animals, plants, even water, obey the Natural Order. Humans used to be part of the balance also.”

Mark looked up, surprised.

“The Ranchers obeyed the Natural Order?”

“No, not the Ranchers. Hardly any White Skins. The Red Skins who used to live here knew how to maintain harmony with the Natural Order. When the White Skins came, they changed everything.” Sophia closed her eyes and paused. When she opened her eyes, Mark noticed they were a little watery. “What did they do?” he said.

Sophia sniffled then continued, “They built fences and roads, stopped up rivers, flooded grasslands, drained wetlands. They killed almost all of the Red Skins, the bison, and the predators.”

Mark brightened.

“Killed the predators. That’s good right?”

“No Marko, the predators are part of the balance too. Without them, too many animals survived and when there wasn’t enough food, they starved. Then animals who got sick spread their disease to others and weakened them.”

“Why did the white skinned humans do that?”

“No one understands. Many have tried, but it’s unexplainable.”

     Sophia went silent. Mark closed his eyes and tried to think of a reason why humans would disobey the Natural Order. He didn’t know anything about humans except what he’d seen the Ranchers do and nothing they did had ever made sense to him. He tried to imagine what it must have been like before humans disobeyed the Natural Order, when all animals were free and wild. So much thinking made Mark feel drowsy. His head dropped forward and he fell asleep.

     When he woke, it was sundown and Sophia was gone. He looked out across the meadow and saw the Wisdom Council gathered in a circle.  He wondered what they were discussing tonight. Mark bent down and bit off a mouthful of grass. He chewed slowly, savoring the crunchy sweetness. He thought about Clowers and wished he could thank him for setting him free. Things had started out a little shaky, but now that Mark was with the bison it looked like it was going to work out all right.

     A cloud of dust rose up as the Wisdom Council stomped the ground and broke up their meeting. Sophia walked slowly toward Mark, her calm expression betrayed nothing, but when she spoke she sounded tense.

“Marko, I want you to listen very carefully, and do exactly as I tell you.”

“OK Sophia,” Mark stopped eating and gave her his full attention.

“Something is going to happen this evening, and I need you to stay very close by my side. Keep your right ear pressed against my mane, and move with me. If I start to run, you run too. Stay with me. Do you understand?”

Mark felt a chill run down his spine. This was bad.

“Yes,” he squeaked.

“Good.”

“What…what’s going to happen?”

“Calvino had a Dream. He saw two humans on horses coming into the meadow.”

“Oh!” Mark blurted, “The Ranchers! The Ranchers are trying to find me.”

“Yes.” Sophia sounded sad. There was more she wasn’t saying.

“Are…they going…to get me?”

“No Marko”

“Then it’ll be ok?”

Sophia didn’t answer right away. Mark waited for reassurance.

“I hope so,” she finally said.

A snort came from behind them. More snorts sounded on all sides.

“Get in position!” someone yelled.

“Hurry Marko. Now.” Sophia turned her flank and he pressed against her, burying his right ear into her mane, hiding the green tag that marked him as the property of the Casablanca Ranch.

“Remember, stay with me,” she commanded.

     Mark heard a familiar sound. One he remembered he didn’t like very much. What was it? He listened carefully through the din of snorting bison. A picture slowly formed in his mind. It was an animal…a…dog!