It’s a Mossberg 500 also but it’s their Bantam model. Synthetic stock and custom nineteen inch barrel I had a local shop work up for me to save weight and give me a wider spread. Makes it a little easier to hit a moving target. It’s got a four plus one mag setup. Bugger weighs just shy of six pounds where the standard Bantam weighs six and a half. She said then added. “Yours weighs six and three quarter pounds and is already loaded by the way.” She inserted cartridges into hers then fastened it to the rack on the driver’s side. She put his box of shells in his large pack for safe keeping and came around the vehicle to fill the canteens.
So we is goin’ huntin’ varments Missy? Ben said in his best hill-billy accent. Jean looked at him with amusement. He grew up in Colorado and didn’t have a lick of southern upbringing even though he was born in Alabama.
Shor thing Bubba. We’s huntin’ fer possum, ‘coon and a rattler for dessert! she chortled back. She grew up in the South and she sounded the part. He gave her a sour look.
So what are we doing with the four-tens anyway? he asked. Jean was filling two canteens at the pump-sink.
Just for what I said. We might run into a rattler or a copperhead but the possum and raccoon’s usually scurry off unless they’re rabid. She said matter-of-factly. Ben thought about it for a moment and realized the old racer could really get around her land pretty quick as much land as she had and could get into places where the wildlife was more populous.
So it’s more for personal protection. I get it. Thanks for the warning. Ben said as he approached her. She looked over and smiled then handed him a full canteen.
Keep this with you. There’s a strap on the front edge of your seat. You can put it there. She said.
Are we going on a short trip to the cabin or on an expedition? he said chuckling. “Seems like a lot of stuff for an overnight stay.”
Jean came up to the old racer with her canteen and started strapping it into a holder on the front face of the driver’s seat at the floor. “I was prepared to stay for a three day weekend!” she said looking at him slyly.
He got in the passenger’s side and fastened the harness. She got in the driver’s seat and did the same. She punched a button on her keychain and the garage door started rolling up. She inserted the key into the ignition and turned it to the ON position. When the door was fully open, he expected her to punch the starter button and fire up the engine. He was surprised that she simply eased it out of the barn’s garage with only a low whine.
Electric motor? He said brows raised. “Wow! I’ve never seen an electric ATV this large but I’ve heard about them out in California.”
She smiled. “This one is a conversion. It’s really an old Baja dune racer.”
Aha! I knew it! he exclaimed. “Didn’t the kits you used to be able to order have those old souped up VW bug engines like the Baja bugs had?” he asked. She nodded as they rolled out into the open air. Ben continued, “I remember those. But the suspension looks more at home out on the western terrain at speed instead of here in the hills. She looks too big to go trail riding.”
He. She said emphasizing the masculine then continued. “Yep. The gal I bought it from moved here from Arizona. She said she couldn’t afford to keep it since the parts are a lot more expensive here and didn’t want the hassle of shipping it back to anyone wanting it. I told her I wanted it for the ‘awesome’ factor!” she said growling the last. “I even got it street legal so I can drive it anywhere I want.”
Jean pressed the button on the keychain again and the door started rolling down. She flipped on the lights and the area ahead of them seemed to ignite even with the lightening sky. Jean gunned it and they took off toward a narrow opening in the fence at the far end of the field at break-neck speed. When they reached the gate and stopped, she reached down and handed a key to Ben.
Would you please do the honors? she asked in her sweetest voice. He had a big grin on his face as her race across the field reminded him of his last ride in her old Porsche 914.
Ben undid his harness and climbed out to unlock and open the gate. Once Jean moved through the gate, he closed and locked it again then climbed back into vintage racer and buckled up. Jean headed into the woods at a brisk pace.
So does ‘he’ have a name? Ben asked as they practically ran silently through the woods. The only noise they made were the whine of the electric motor and the crunching of the forest floor debris. It was the strangest sensation.
Yes. His name is Puma. She replied. He looked at her, then forward then back at her as a double-take. She looked at him and grinned, amused at his expressions.
Okay. Why? he said.
‘Cause he’s big, he’s fast and goes anywhere I want him to nearly silent like a Puma. Truth be told, he scared the hell out the little kids at the day care when I drove by because he’s so quiet. They would see the big cat paintwork on the panels and run screaming to their caregivers. I took the panther images off and repainted the panels so it wouldn’t scare them. It would be a might easier to locate in the woods from the air. She said. “Just in case.” She followed up.
Makes sense I guess. He said.
He could make out the off road trail fairly easily now. She must have taken this route many times as the route seemed well marked. With all the turns she had made, his sense of direction was confused thoroughly. He tried to keep track but wasn’t able to at all.
He made out the outline of a structure in the distance. They were approaching it rapidly then Jean came to a sliding halt in front of the building. A small dust cloud was kicked up and began to overtake the air space they were breathing. The lights were blazing against the side of the building and reflecting off the dust and dirt particles giving the impression the building was under attack by energy beams. Ben recognized it as a tobacco drying barn like the ones he’d seen throughout the Carolina’s. He looked to her for her explanation.
“It’s a tobacco barn. They dried the leaves in there on beams after harvesting. A few windows and shutters controlled the heat and humidity during the drying process. Got damn hot in there from what I’ve read about them.” She explained. Another minute of looking at the building then she slowly drove past it. Ben grabbed the spot light hanging in a holder in front of him and switched it on pointing the beam at the barn. He could see it was about to collapse which was probably why she didn’t offer him a look inside. She accelerated a little bit and he switched off the spot light.
The trail led them to another building. This one was obviously an old log cabin. The roof had caved in and the walls were leaning to one side. Jean slowed so Ben could shine the spot on it to get a better look.
“Anybody’s place we know?” Ben asked. Jean shook her head.
“It might have been a relative’s but nobody is certain. I haven’t found any record of a house in this area. Early homesteaders would be spread out at random as land claims were made. For all we know our relatives kicked out the original occupants after purchasing it. Without land claims or deeds on file, it was quite easy to lose your home and land in those days.” Jean accelerated again and slowing occasionally to get a look at more structures on the way down to the cabin.
The ground leveled out quite a bit and they broke out of the woods into a clearing and sunshine. Jean reached over and shut off the lights then. The field looked like a meadow complete with flowers, prairie grasses and a little cabin on a creek in the distance. Jean took a hard left and followed the tree line around the field.
He followed the trees and discovered they rounded back to the cabin. He watched the cabin as it grew larger and noticed it wasn’t a cabin at all. It was a cottage. He was a little disappointed it wasn’t a log cabin but then remembered that grandma called her little place up in western North Carolina a cabin as well. It was the same type of structure as this one.
Jean pulled up to the side of the cottage and switched the vehicle’s electrical system to OFF. They unbuckled and got out of the Puma. Jean took an inspection look around the cottage. Ben wandered to the creek’s edge and took in the beauty and peacefulness he could sense here. Jean came up behind him and took his right hand in hers.
Beautiful isn’t it? She asked. Ben nodded in silence as he looked around. Then he noticed a large house on top of the hill across the creek. It seemed an intrusion on the view and it irritated him and frowned. Jean looked at him and noticed where he was looking.
I feel the same way too. I wanted to build a bigger house here but I didn’t want the neighbors looking down on me and my place all the time. She said. Ben nodded in agreement. “It would be picture perfect without that house.”
You’re right. Guess you won’t be able to build a fence to keep them from looking in I guess. He smirked. She harrumphed.
Want to see the inside? Your Great-Grandfather had it built in 1955 and it’s seen better days but it’s still here and I still come to visit. She said. He looked and she motioned to the front door. She turned and led them to it.
Upon entering the ‘little’ cottage it had a large main room in front, a kitchen separated by a breakfast bar counter and two bedrooms with a bathroom on the other end. All in all the building probably measured twenty feet by forty feet and was built up on pylons to keep it off the damp ground. As she showed him the house, the oak wood flooring creaked but still felt solid. He liked oak floors and their character. Nobody could sneak up on you either.
After the short tour, she went outside the back door for a short bit and returned. While she was out he heard what he thought was water spitting then running. He discovered the bathroom sink faucet was on and shut it off. The toilet’s tank and bowl filled after a moment of sputtering too. He came back to the kitchen and Jean was checking the kitchen faucet.
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