When Charles came in from the mountainside pasture, they were huddled on the cabin’s only bed, Gina curled around the child until he was almost invisible. She raised a tear-stained face.
Charles glanced at her and turned to hang his coat on a peg.
“Cuguar,” she said.
“Cougar?” Then he was beside her, pulling Charlie from her arms, looking him over.
“He is unhurt,” she said, a hand on the child’s small leg. “I threw a stick. It ran away.”
Charles dumped him back into her arms. “Mountain lion don’t run off.” He crossed to the fire. “Don’t tell me stories.”
“It is true.” Gina smoothed the boy’s hair. “Mamá saved you,” she said. “She did.”
Charles grunted at the fire. “You sittin’ there with him all day?” he demanded. “Where’s my food?”
She lowered the child gently to the bed and went to prepare the evening meal.
from Old One Eye Pete