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Over by the saguaro, Charity's donkeys suddenly
stamped their feet, snorting down their noses and wagging
their ears. Old woman had her gun in her hand on the
instant, was off the steps and standing. "I got me a gun.
Who goes there?"
Molly was up and standing too, trying to see everywhere
at once.
"Why now, lookit that. Not too often you see somethin'
like that."
Charity was pointing at the cook stove. Bobcat on the
griddle, dancing on the cooling metal. Bobcat was licking
up the last of the old woman's supper. Licks, shakes its
head from the heat, licks, shakes its head. Old woman put
her gun away, sat down again—but Molly walked forward
a few feet, the better to see the cat.
Never seen a bobcat before, got to see the cat. Cat sees
you too. Cat's turning your way. Forward another two
steps, holding out her hand, palm up. Aunt Evelyn taught
you that. Like you've got something to feed them, Molly—the other way they think you might hurt them. Don't look
in their eyes. If you look in their eyes, you're challenging
them.
Smiling now, one more step.
The report of a small gun rang out behind her, small
bullet whizzing past on her left. Followed by a big ping of
the bullet hitting metal and a bobcat hissing in alarm. Cat
sprang off the griddle to bound away into the night.
Molly spun on her heel. "Why'd you do that?"
Old woman still sitting there, gun in her hand. "Ever
had a cat attached to your face? Sooner you get out of this
desert, angel, better for all concerned."
— Walks Away Woman, Ki Longfellow, page 69
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