Finding Miranda

CHAPTER 10: THE SNAKE

In the street, Dave and the snake were only a few yards apart. Dave had blocked Shep's forward motion with his own shaggy flank.

Miranda broke open the shotgun over her forearm as she hurried through the low iron gate held open by Martha.

Shep pulled at Dave's bandanna and shouted "Leave it!" and "Back! Dave, back!" But Dave and the snake were battle-crazed and poised to attack.

Slamming shells into the two barrels, Miranda snapped the gun closed at the same time she was raising it to her shoulder.

"Get back, Shepard!" Miranda shrieked, then BAH-BOOM both barrels of the twelve-gauge spat fire and metal. The rattler's head bloomed into a cloud of red mist as big as a car tire. Its headless body writhed and then was still.

Miranda was catapulted backward two steps by the recoil of the gun, which seemed far too heavy to her in the aftermath. She let it droop at her side and leaned against her stone fence.

Shep was on his knees in the road, running his hands over Dave's forelegs and chest, head and belly.

"Did it get him?" Martha asked pragmatically, walking up to Shepard while looking intently at the dog.

"No, but it sure could have. Could've got us both," exhaled Shep. "I didn't even know it was there until Dave jumped in front of me. Nearly knocked me down, but he stopped me." He ruffled the dog's neck fur. "You stopped me, didn't ya, buddy. Good dog! Good dog."

Then Shep stood and turned in the direction of Miranda's house. Putting one hand on the dog's back, he said, "Let's go say thanks to Annie Oakley for saving our lives, eh?"

Martha sent a knowing smile and a wink in Miranda's direction then moved off to return home. "I'm gonna collect that skin afore some stupid car runs over it and ruins it," she called over her shoulder.

"Yewchh!" Miranda said, shuddering. She stared at the headless corpse for a second, then was distracted by the man coming at her. The closer he came, the higher she had to raise her chin to look up into his face. She saw herself twice-reflected in his sunglasses.

She was still waiting for him to speak when he grasped her arms just above her elbows and simply lifted her off the ground and planted a quick, hard kiss on her lips. He followed it with a longer, softer kiss, then lowered her until her toes touched the ground. He still trapped her close, his arms circling her waist. "Thank you, Castor Bean," he whispered.

"Uh-huh." She thought she might faint, but then she might miss something,

"Tell me, where did you get an elephant gun at this hour of the day?" he said, chuckling.

"Closet," she sighed, trying to determine the color of his eyes behind the opaque glasses.

He rested his forehead against hers and nuzzled her nose with his own. He dislodged her black-rimmed spectacles, then gently re-settled them on her upraised face.

"You're wearing glasses," he said.

"I'm blind as a bat."

"Are you really?"

"Uh-huh."

"Y'know, I have a lot of blind friends. Maybe we know some of the same people."

What would be the odds of that? she thought. He's larger than life, and I'm not sure I even exist! " Aloud, she told him, "Pretty sure we don't have the same circle of friends. I know I don't have any 'blind friends.' "

"You have me," he said, and kissed her forehead.

Miranda watched her dual reflection become smaller in the mirrored lenses of his glasses as he stepped back from her.

She leaned, limp and wide-eyed, against her stone fence. Her eyes focused straight ahead, scarcely even blinking. Her arms hung slack at her sides-the right hand still holding the empty shotgun, its muzzle dangling toward the ground.

Miranda licked her lips and tried again to see his eyes. All she could see was his smile as he backed away then turned and jogged on his way, Dave padding close alongside.

Miranda was amazed that she remained standing when every cell in her body had melted like hot wax. Some monumental knowledge was tapping at the edge of her brain, but it slipped off the molten wax every time she tried to reach it. What did he say?

Miranda didn't see or hear Martha approach, and when Martha took the shotgun, Miranda screamed.

"Good to know you're still in there," Martha said and chuckled. Miranda turned to look at her friend with more confusion than recognition. "I'll stick this back in the closet fer ya," Martha said, taking Miranda's elbow and turning her around to return to the house. "You need to get showered and dressed and off to work, now. I suggest cold water. Help ya git some a' yer wits a-workin' agin."

"Uh-huh," breathed Miranda, moving like a sleepwalker toward the house. Martha followed her, carrying Phyllis' old weapon.