I ran back towards the barn and saddled Big Red, Josh's other horse, using his saddle as well. I saddled him quickly, and tied him just inside the barn down. Running as fast as I could, I ran towards the house. I jumped up the stairs and almost tore down my bedroom door. Grabbing my rifle and pistol, I threw off the clothes I had on. I threw on a plain black shirt, then a western shirt, and then tucked them both into my jeans. I took my CO2 pistol out of my gun holster and switched it for the real one that hung by my bed. I grabbed my rope as I headed out the door, towards the kitchen. I grabbed whatever food and supplies I could in the five minutes I was there.
Red stood still tied to the porch where I left him. The rain poured down in sheets, along with a good bit oh hail. This next night, or as long as it took, would be hard on me, on us. When I was a kid, both my parents had been killed. My mom had been murdered, like Josh, while my father was overseas with the Navy. No one had told my dad that mom had been killed, so he had a big surprise when he came back. He started drinking, and after about a year he over dosed on the whiskey.
I had found him lying on the couch later that week when I got home from camp. He was stone cold, and stiff. We buried him next to mom under a large oak tree. I found out later, after being in an orphanage for almost four years that my mother had been killed. I had been told that she had moved, since I was only seven when she had been killed.
I tilted my hat down some more, as Red and I took off towards the woods. I stopped, dismounting, and looked for tracks, although not finding them. I heard the deep throated growl and then the tracking bay of one of our red bone hounds behind the barn. I remounted Red, rode behind the barn, and then dismounted again. I looked at my two hounds. "Let's go to work, girls." I told them as I opened the gate and turned them loose.