Worth Saving Read Free Page B

by the fire, stirring it with a stick. The man was old, about forty, (my dad’s age), dressed in jeans, boots, a red flannel shirt and a blue ball cap. He appeared to have something hanging on his left hip, it was too small to be a sword and to big… A GUN! No wonder they didn’t worry about the dog pack. How did he get a gun? They were supposed to have all been confiscated decades ago when the 2 nd amendment was revoked. We were taught about it all in school. Every year there would be several lessons about why no one had guns, and why no one ever would.
    I was sure it was a gun, I could see the wooden grip, the hammer and the back of the trigger guard. It was in a leather holster hanging from a belt with several bullets filling the special loops. I’d seen enough pictures and remembered my dad talking about them wistfully. My mouth began to salivate as I thought about what I could do with a gun. I’d love to run into that dog pack, boy would they be surprised. Maybe the men had extras and would be willing to trade, although, I couldn’t imagine what I could have that they might want. They could pick up anything they needed in the city for free.
    My stomach got that nervous feeling it always got when I came across something unknown. Looking at my measly bow I shook my head. Careful Kris, a gun changes things.
    Turning I looked over my shoulder and tried to catch a glimpse of the sun through the trees. At least two hours before dark. I had to start making some decisions soon. I didn’t want to be caught in the park at night.
    Continuing to make my way to the left, I saw two more men, both with guns on their hips and one caring a rifle. Jesus, it wasn’t fair, the man had two guns. The immense wealth was hard for me to fathom and a feeling of green jealousy washed through my body.  I knew I wasn’t supposed to feel like this, it wasn’t right; maybe the man earned his wealth. My heart raced, I craved a gun like nothing else in this world.
    As I watched the man with the rifle got up and said something to his companions, dressed in Jeans, cowboy boots and a suede jacket with a wool collar he was too far away to be heard clearly. His body language screamed alpha mail marking him the guy in charge. The third man was about my age, with beady eyes and greasy hair tied back in a long pony tail that stretched to the middle of his back.
    I saw that the bushes were closer to the wagons  about twenty feet further to the right and slowly made my way to them and peered through the branches I had slowly spread.
    I was shocked to my core to see two girls tied to one of the wagon wheels. The first girl was about six or seven, with brown hair and wearing a pink parka. She looked scared, her forehead creased in worry, like a rabbit snared in a trap. She slightly blocked my view of the other girl. I could tell it was a girl because of the way her jeans were stretched over a tight rounded hip and her long legs ended in small black, pointy toed boots, just like …
    I gasped and froze, afraid the men would hear me. Thankfully they didn’t react. Quietly I moved a little, I had to know. Yes it was her alright, the girl I’d met the other day. She was pissed off enough to kill a grizzly. She had a big red bruise on her cheek and kept pulling at the ropes binding her hands.
    I glanced down at my bow and mentally counted the seven arrows in my quiver. Oh crap, what had I gotten myself into this time?

 
     
    Chapter Three
    I was confused. Why? The two girls were frightened, their hands tied in front and secured to the wagon wheel. They were obvious prisoners. What did the men want with them?
    Quietly blending back into the trees, I was able to work my way around the wagons and come to them on the other side and get close enough to hear the men talking. The men looked like a rough group, dressed in jeans and heavy coats. Their faces hardened by years of sun and wind. They stood in a group and watched the eagle in the far