Between Two Worlds

Chapter One - The Bounty Hunter

It was hot, very hot. It was late summer, and the month long, heat wave continued to show no mercy. Tray sat in the partially shaded, rocking chair on the front porch of his cabin. He had placed his last stone in place on the half-finished chimney. The cabin, built by his father over thirty years ago, had deteriorated. The harsh winters and unforgiving summers had taken their toll. He had hoped to have finished before the arrival of the first snow, but money had become scarce.

Memories of his last job swept through his mind. He wasn't fond of the work, but the money was good and kept him sustained, for awhile. It had been two years since the authorities had called upon him as a Bounty Hunter. I sure wish now, that I hadn't turned that last job offer. The money would have come in handy. He took pride in knowing that he was considered the best tracker throughout Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho. Normally, he'd complete the job in three days, but his last victim—had taken him four.

He knew that taking a job in town was totally out of the question. The confinement and living among the whites. He cringed inside thinking about being to close to Sheriff Briggs. He was the bully who constantly picked on smaller kids until Tray put him in the hospital, and that was in the fifth grade. I got expelled from school for that. Tray curled half of his moth up in a smile. Besides, I gotta check the traps and go hunting tomorrow morning...I promised Wolf. Feeling his stomach, he licked his lips thinking of a good Elk dinner.

Tray was a tall and muscular young man, not handsome, but possessed of strong features and an engaging smile. There was no fat on him. He inherited his height and build from his father, Henry Tray. His thick, brown hair, he kept tied back with a strip of buckskin. Tray figured that it was his reddish-brown skin and his buckskin clothes that caused most people to shy away. He didn't mind; he liked his solitude.

Leaning back against the cabin, he knew that he should be making a plan on completing the cabin by his self-set deadline. Instead, his thoughts began to focus elsewhere. He thought of Marcella, his ex-wife. The complaining, high society bitch, he thought. She couldn't accept the sacrifices of mountain life. She was so damned concerned with her nails and having the perfect hairstyle! "For God's sake... who in the hell would notice...out here?" Children? They were definitely out the question! He felt his anger burn deep inside...still...he couldn't deny his innermost yearnings. He longed for the soft, tender touch of a woman. Someone who share his lodge with him and bare his children...but on his terms.

It had been two weeks since his last visit to the village. He knew that his grandfather, Black Elk and his uncle, Lone Wolf, were speaking of his absence. He missed the tribal meetings, the companionship, the laughing, and the manly duties of the hunting party. No...he couldn't risk that and break tribal law. That would only place him and the woman, he chose, as outcasts.

Then there was Dax... Tray rubbed his stubby beard and ran his finger along his thin mustache. She was different, yet the same. She was adventurous, loved the mountains and dressed as she felt. Free. Her tight blue jeans, tank tops and her long, auburn hair, reminded him of a wild mustang in need of a curry comb. Her large, deep-brown, eyes, and Tawney lips were so inviting. Yet, much like Marcella, she was hard-headed and strong willed. She said that she was researching the Grand Tetons. and wanted to experience them first-hand. Tray shook his head and grinned, she'd be a trophy if a man could tame her, his grin broadened, but...tangling with a mountain lion would be far less risky than tangling with her!

Tray jerked himself loose from his self-indulgence thoughts and looked over the secluded meadow. Time was withering away. The shadows of the tall pine trees were fading as the sun made its slow descent below the west ridge of Mount Moran. He knew it would be a two hour ride down the mountain side to the lower meadow and another hour to town, by truck. Tray didn't care, at that moment, all he cared about was drowning the days yearnings out with a couple of cold ones. He finished packing his pelts on the mule and tied her to Kit's saddle. Grabbing the reins, he threw himself in the saddle.

"Come on Wolf....if we're going to sell these pelts, we gotta get. We're burnin' daylight!" Wolf wiggled and pranced around Kit as they made their way down the mountainside, barking most of the way. "Alright boy...settle down, we're not on a hunt...we're just going to town!"

Tray parked his truck in front of the bar, it was dusk and the pelts were gone. He felt that he did pretty good this time and the money would last for awhile, but still a feeling of uneasiness hung over him. He made his way through the crowd and took a seat at the counter. The couple next to him became loud and foul as they began to argue. From the corner of his eye, he saw the man rear his first back and it was evident that the woman was his target. Tray reached over and grabbed a hold of his wrist, "I wouldn't do that mister!" The man, flustered with anger, turned and eyed Tray up and down and gave a sarcastic laugh. "What do you think you are? Some kind of Indian or something...are going to scalp me if I do?" Without losing his composure or showing any change in his expression, he rose his huge, muscular frame to its feet and Wolf took his stance next to him with his teeth bared. Without a word, he swung and left the man sprawled out on the floor. He turned to the lady and tipped his hat, "are you all right Miss?" Her eyes and mouth wide open, she stood, staring down at the man. "Yes...yes...thank you," she muttered. Tray tipped his hat again and retook his seat. She gathered her things as fast as she could and ran out the door.

Vi slipped another quarter in the jute box as the laughter from the crowd echoed throughout the room, once again.
"Well...hello Tray!"
Tray tipped his hat again, "Vi."
"What'll ya'll have, The usual?"
Tray nodded his head. Vi set a mug of cold beer and a shot of Jack Daniels down in front of him and left him to himself.

Tray couldn't dismiss hearing the hoot of the owl coming down the the mountain. He could feel the wary eyes of the death-dealers from the shadows and the uncertainty of what the future held.

He placed the empty mug on the counter and glanced into the mirror that hung on the wall behind the bar. Showing no physical reaction, he felt a lump tighten in his throat and his heart drop to his knees. Dax had entered the room.