Page 50 of Runaway Hucow

In truth, the new dress was even smaller. It squeezed her so tightly, her breasts were threatening to pop out of the scooped neck.

Roscoe’s eyes lingered briefly on her chest. Then he picked up one of the halves of the log he’d just split and set it upright on the stump.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“In the valley? Spike already told you, he rescued me and brought me back here to—”

“I mean now. Why are you standing here right now? What do you want?”

Tess hesitated. What did she want exactly? She couldn’t remember anymore. An olive branch, she supposed. She didn’t feel as though it was her responsibility to make the peace offering, but if she didn’t do it, Roscoe never would.

“I… I feel like we may have gotten off on the wrong hoof.” She blushed hotly as she remembered how exposed she had been yesterday when Roscoe had made his big entrance. “I just wanted to let you know, I respect what you’re doing here in this valley.”

“And what might that be?”

“Protecting the herd of bison who live here. It’s important work. The species is nearly extinct outside this valley. I can understand why you want to keep this place hidden.”

Swsssh THUNK!

“If you think you can convince me to let you leave, think again.”

“It’s not my intention to convince you of anything,” Tess said, trying her best to remain calm. “I’m simply telling you how I feel about it. If we’re going to be living together, I figured you might as well know where I stand.”

Swsssh THUNK!

Tess waited for a response. When it became apparent that none was forthcoming, she said, “You know, maybe you won’t have to keep this place hidden forever. The government is already passing laws to protect bison from hunting and—”

Roscoe’s ax came down so hard the piece of wood beneath it didn’t just split, it shattered, and the edge of the blade buried itself a good three inches into the stump underneath. He turned toward Tess with so much fire in his eyes, she flinched away in terror.

“What government is that?” he snapped. “The same government that hunted buffalos to the brink of extinction in the first place? They used to shoot them from trains, you know. Wouldn’t even stop to collect the ones they killed, just left the carcasses for the harpies. They didn’t want their skins, didn’t want their meat, just wanted to exterminate as many animals as possible so they could starve out the Indians who were standing in the way of their precious railroads and firestone mines. Is that the good-natured government you’re talking about? Is that who’s going to protect the buffalos, with their little laws scribbled on their little pieces of paper?”

Tears sprang to Tess’s eyes. She felt like she’d been slapped.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said. “I just—”

“And don’t you go thinking I’m protecting this herd out of the goodness of my heart,” Roscoe went on. “I’m doing it for survival, plan and simple. Which, come to think of it, is the same reason Spike brought you here.”

Tess felt her heart stop, then start again.

“What do you mean?”

The corner of Roscoe’s mouth turned up in a cold sneer. It was the closest Tess had seen him come to smiling. She preferred his scowl.

“You really don’t know, do you? Spike didn’t tell you where we come from, we bisonmen.”

“He told me that you’re brothers.”

“Herd brothers,” Roscoe said. “I used to be an ordinary buffalo. My mother calved me in the spring of ’48. I wasn’t even a yearling when the Occurrence happened. That’s when I was transformed into a minotaur. But I was still young, and I couldn’t fend for myself. I probably would have died if it hadn’t been for Granny Walker. Heard of her? She’s the grandmother of the three Walker men who live down the valley, and the great-grandmother of their children. She’s the one who found me stumbling around out there like a damned brainless idiot, trying to pick fights with four-legged bison ten times my size.”

For a moment, his smile looked almost warm.

“Granny Walker raised me like I was her own boy. She fed me and clothed me and put a roof over my head. When I got a little older, she taught me how to track, how to shoot, how to chop wood. She taught me everything I know. When Spike and Peyton came into the world, she took care of them the same way. They were both born as minotaurs, so they weren’t transformed the way I was, but their mothers were plain old four-legged bison, same as mine.”

Tess experienced a flutter of shock. She’d heard of hucows and minotaurs being born as the offspring of regular cattle, but it was rare. She was surprised to learn that both Spike and Peyton had been born that way.

“That’s why it’s important to protect the herd,” Roscoe said. “That’s the only way to get new bisonmen into the world. It’s not just a matter of the buffalo’s survival. It’s a matter of my own species’ survival too…”

His ax was still embedded in the stump. He gripped the haft and worked it back and forth until the blade squeaked free.