Turkey Tales – The Thrill of the Hunt by SandySha

 Turkey Tales – The Thrill of the Hunt by SandySha

 

 

Thanks to Doc (Terri Derr) for her encouragement and beta, and to Buckskin (Diana Littner) for her suggestions.

******

 

Teresa stood in the Great Room, hands on hips, right foot tapping on the tiled floor.   “Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah.”   Johnny tilted his head, staring at the girl.    “I know.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“You had one job, Johnny Lancer.”  She raised a finger.  “One …job…”

Johnny placed his hands on his hips, imitating Teresa.  “And I did my job.  You wanted a turkey.  I got …you… a…turkey.”

“Really.”  Teresa turned her head to look at Maria standing next to her.  “You call that… a turkey?”

Maria raised a tattered bundle of feathers by the only leg left on the bird. 

“So, it’s missing a leg.  No one likes the drumstick anyway.”  He turned to look at Scott.  “Do they?”

Scott held up both hands and took a step backward.  “Don’t get me in the middle of this.  I told you not to shoot it.”

“You told me not to shoot it?   Brother, you were telling me to shoot it from the get-go.”

“Yes, I said shoot it with a rifle.  Not with your pistol.”

“You were there.  Just how was I supposed to bring it down?”

Teresa snorted and raised her forefinger and wagged it at him.  “One shot, Johnny.  It only takes one shot.  Not six.”

“One shot…six.  What difference?  I got him, didn’t I?”

“The difference is something we can eat, not one that’s in pieces…lots and lots of pieces with lead in every other bit.  What were you thinking?”

Johnny dipped his head and gave Scott a side glance.  Getting no help from that direction, he lifted his head and met Teresa’s blue eyes. 

“Look, you don’t know what it was like.  I had to shoot it.”

“You…had to shoot it?” Teresa laughed.  “Oh, I’ve got to hear this.”

“I’d like to hear it, too.” Murdoch entered the room, looking first at his sons and then the bird dangling from Maria’s hand.  “Johnny, is that the turkey we were supposed to have for dinner tomorrow?”

“Yeah.  That’s it.”

“And why did you have to shoot it … I mean, so many times?”

“It attacked me.”

Teresa threw her hands up and laughed.  “You expect us to believe a turkey attacked you?  What did it do, draw on you?”

“No, Teresa.  It didn’t draw on me.  It…”  Johnny blew out a breath and looked away.

Scott tapped his brother’s arm.  “Go on, Johnny.  Tell them.”

Johnny looked up.  “Well, yesterday me and Scott were out near the woods east of here.  You know …looking for a turkey.” He pointed to the bird dangling from Maria’s hand.  “We found that one.   Isn’t that right, Scott?”

“That’s right, Teresa.”

“And—?”

******

The day before—

Johnny reined in Barranca.  He raised a hand, signaling his brother to stop.

“Did you see one?”

“No.”

“Then why—?”

“We ain’t never gonna find a turkey.” 

“Walt said he saw a flock out this way last week.”

“Well, someone must have told them we were coming.  I say we go home and tell Teresa to fix something else.”

Scott removed his hat and wiped his sleeve across his forehead.  “No.  We have to get a turkey.   I don’t want to think about what Teresa and Maria would do to us if we came back empty-handed.  It’s our first Thanksgiving as a family.  They want it to be perfect.”

“And having a turkey would make it perfect?”

“Well, yes…and no.  It’s tradition to have a turkey on Thanksgiving Day.”

“You had turkey back in Boston?”

“We did,” Scott smiled.  “Turkey and all the fixings.  It was quite a feast.” 

“Where’d they get their turkeys?   They have wild turkey running around the streets of Boston?”

“In the east, there are turkey farms that deliver the birds to butchers.  Cook went to the butcher and picked it out.”

“Sure wish she was here now.”    A movement to their right caught Johnny’s attention.  “There.”  He pointed.  “You see it?”

Scott pushed himself up in his stirrups.   On the outskirts of a wooded area, he saw a single wild turkey pecking at the ground.  “What do you want to do?”

Johnny lifted his rifle and aimed.

“Remember only one shot.  Teresa was adamant that there be only one bullet hole.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Scott watched as the turkey lifted his head and looked their way.    “Take the shot.”

Johnny lowered the Winchester and smiled.  “I have a better idea.”

“What’s your idea?”

“Let’s try to rope it.”

Scott’s mouth dropped open.  “You think you can put a rope around a turkey?”

“Won’t know until we try.  That way, there won’t be a bullet for Teresa to fuss about.”

“Alright, let’s see you do it.”

Johnny dismounted, unhooked the lariat from his saddle, and fed it out.   Together, he and Scott moved in closer…and closer until they were close enough to rope the bird.  The turkey turned its head again and looked at the two men as if daring them to come nearer. 

With a determined flick of his wrist, Johnny whirled the rope high above his head.  A moment later, he released it swiftly, watching as it spiraled through the air, tracing an arc before plunging toward its target.

The turkey gobbled and leaped through the loop with impressive, effortless grace.

As the bird made its escape, Johnny could have sworn he had heard it laughing at him.  “Confident little shit, isn’t he?  Thinks he can get away from me.”   

“Why not just shoot it?”

“He’s made me mad now.  There won’t be one hole in that bird.”

“But…”

“No, ‘but’ about it.  I’m snagging the damn thing.”

While the brothers argued, the turkey trotted into the wood without a backward glance.

Johnny shook his head.  “Well, that’s just dandy.  We lost him.”

Scott scanned the area.  “What are we going to do now?”

“Track it.  Maybe it hasn’t gone far.”

The brothers moved cautiously through the dense woods, their senses sharp as they paused at every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig beneath their feet. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the thick canopy overhead, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. After what felt like an eternity of silence and anticipation, the elusive turkey finally came into view.

“There he is,” Scott whispered and glanced at his brother.  “Are you sure you don’t want to shoot it?”

Johnny shook his head and took a few steps forward, getting close enough to throw the lasso again.  The loop fell around the turkey’s body, and he pulled it tight.  “Got him.”

As Johnny started forward, the turkey began to run.  Johnny jumped to catch him.  When he did, the bird opened his wings, smacking him in the nose; the rope fell away, and Johnny ended up belly down the ground, his face buried in leaves.

Scott ran forward, looked down at his brother, and then toward the fleeing turkey.   “You let him go.”

Johnny raised his leaf-covered head, spat out a mouth full of dirt and mud, and glowered at his brother.  “I didn’t let him go.  He took off.”

“What are we going to do now?”

“You know, Scott, you keep asking that question.” He spat again, this time wiping away a worm that wiggled out of his lips.  “Why don’t you come up with an idea.”

“Alright, I will.  Follow me.”

A few minutes later, they spotted the turkey again. 

“Quiet now.”

“Quiet now,” Johnny mimicked his brother.  “I am being quiet.”

As Scott trod carefully through the underbrush, his foot landed on a brittle twig.  The sharp crack echoed through the quiet woods.  Startled, two wild turkeys burst into the air, their feathers ruffling like the wings of an unexpected, and ascended into the canopy above with a flurry of startled squawks.

Scott looked bewildered.  “I didn’t know turkeys could fly.”

“Sure, they can.”

“The ones in Boston didn’t fly.”

“This ain’t Boston, Boston.  These are wild turkeys.  They fly.”

“So, what are we going to do now?”  

“Hit him in the head with a rock.”

“Or we could—.“

“Don’t say shoot it.”

“Alright, go ahead.”  Scott picked up a rock and handed it to Johnny.  “Here.”

Johnny took the rock, drew back an arm, and let loose.  The stone popped off the limb the turkey was standing on, sending the bird flying to the ground before it took off running.

“So much for your aim,” Scott snorted.

“He moved.”

“No, he didn’t.”  Scott looked through the foliage, trying to find their prey.  “Well, now you scared him, and he’s gone again.”

“But now there’s two of them.  We have better odds of getting one.”

Johnny jumped up.  “Look, there one of them goes now.”

“He’s headed for the creek.  We got him now.”

The boys took off running.  As they got closer, they could see the turkey standing on the creek bank, staring back at them.  Scott went one way, while Johnny the other. 

When they were within an arm’s length, Johnny jumped forward, ready to catch the bird.  Suddenly, the turkey flapped its wings and soared into the water.  Johnny landed face-first in the cold stream.  When he raised his head, he saw the turkey looking back as it swam downstream.

Scott stood on the bank, hands on his hips.  “I didn’t know turkeys could swim.”

“Well, now you know.”  Johnny extended a wet hand.  “Help me up.”

“Learn something new every day.”

“Well, I’ve learned one thing.” Johnny shook his wet hair, sending water droplets onto Scott’s still-clean, dry shirt.  “If we plan to get a turkey for tomorrow, I’m going to have to shoot it.”

“What do you say I…” Scott stopped and looked to their left.  There stood a fully grown turkey.   “Johnny…look.”

Johnny lifted the rifle, aimed, and… The turkey took off running, zigging and zagging.  Johnny squeezed off a shot, just missing the fast-moving bird.  He fired again, only to see the bird take flight.  He’d expected it to head for the treetops but was surprised when the bird turned in mid-air and headed straight for him. 

Wide-eyed, Johnny tried to duck, but the turkey hit him full force in the chest.  He staggered back three feet before landing flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him.

Looking up, Scott saw the bird land on a limb high in the trees above them.  He started to move to his brother’s side when, from above, he saw the turkey spread its wings, scream, and propel itself straight at them.

Johnny was on his knees, staggering to his feet, when— too late— he heard Scott yelling, “Stay down.  It’s coming again.”

This time, the turkey slammed into Johnny’s back, sending him sprawling face down, arms spread wide. 

Johnny struggled to regain his footing, his legs unsteady beneath him.  He barely heard Scott yelling his name.   

“Johnny, look out.”

Dazed and disoriented, he spotted the turkey changing direction once again. With a fierce, sweeping motion, the creature's dark silhouette plunged toward him, its wings outstretched, casting a shadow over him.

All Johnny could see were its piercing, bead-like crimson eyes, glimmering with an unsettling intensity as they bore into him.   

With blinding speed, Johnny drew his Colt, and fired…and fired…and…”

******

“And that’s what happened.”

Johnny looked around the room.  They were all staring at him. 

“Look, that thing was fast and kept darting around.  I’ve never seen anything move that fast.  It tried to kill me, so I had to… shoot it.”

“Six times?”  Teresa raised an eyebrow.  “Tell us again what you did for a living the last five years.”

Johnny’s eyes narrowed.  “You weren’t there, Teresa.  That thing was like a demon.”

“Alright.  We understand why you shot it, but we still need a turkey for tomorrow.”

“You expect me to go back out there and get another turkey?”

“Yes.”  Teresa turned to Murdoch.  “Make him go back out.”

“Johnny…”

“Look, Murdoch, I’m tired, I’m sore, and … I don’t even like turkey.”

Teresa stomped her foot.  “Johnny, you will go out and get another turkey.  You will bring it back by…”  She turned to look at the clock on the wall.  “It’s one o’clock now.  You will have the turkey here by six, so we have time to prepare it for tomorrow morning.   Do I make myself clear?”

Teresa turned to Scott when she heard him chuckling.  “Oh, don’t laugh, Scott.  You’re going to help Johnny.”

“But….”  He stopped when he saw both Maria and Teresa glaring.  “Alright.  I’ll help.”

“Now, both of you, get out of here and don’t come back without that turkey.  We eat at two o’clock sharp tomorrow afternoon, so don’t waste time.”

Without another word, Teresa turned on her heel and marched into the kitchen.  Maria held the decimated turkey up again, looked at it and then Johnny, and shook her head.

The brothers looked at their father.  “You heard her, and Johnny, don’t shoot this one.  I think you were onto something with roping it.”

******

Johnny suddenly stopped halfway to the barn, causing Scott to bump into him.

“Johnny.  We’d better get going.”

“I have a better idea.  What do you say we forget the whole thing and ride into Green River for a beer?”

“And disappoint everyone tomorrow?”

“I didn’t say that.” 

“So, what are we going to do?”

Johnny glared at his brother.   “I wonder what the folks in town do for a turkey?”

“When I was in Green River the other day, I noticed the mercantile had live turkeys for sale.  They get them from a turkey farm south of here.”

Johnny looked at his brother, eyes wide and mouth open.  “And you’re telling me this now?”

“Teresa wanted a wild turkey.”

“She won’t know the difference.  Come on.  We’re going to town, and the store damn well better still have some turkeys left.”

*******

As the clock approached noon on Thanksgiving Day, the hacienda came alive with the tantalizing scents of the holiday feast. The rich aroma of golden-brown roast turkey filled the air, accompanied by the warm, inviting scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the oven. Subtle notes of sage, thyme, and rosemary danced together, creating a fragrant symphony that teased the senses and promised a delightful celebration to come.

Teresa was softly humming a cheerful tune as she finished the table. She smoothed the crisp linen tablecloth and centered an arrangement of flowers.

At two o’clock, a sense of anticipation filled the air.  Murdoch took his place at the head of the long, polished table.  On either side of him, Scott and Johnny settled in.  Teresa, with a warm smile, claimed the seat beside Johnny.  At the opposite end of the table, Sam Jenkins found his seat.

“Sure looks good.”  Johnny looked at the table, where the beautifully arranged plates of food showcased the hard work Maria and Teresa had put in over the past few days.

 “Yes, it does.” Scott smiled. 

Maria entered the room, her hands cradling a silver platter holding a golden-brown turkey. Lucia followed closely behind her, carrying a second turkey. They sat them in front of Murdoch and stepped back.

Murdoch stood with a knife and forked over the bird, ready to carve.  “This looks wonderful.  Maria and Teresa, thank you for all your hard work.”

“Hold on.”  Johnny pushed himself up.  His eyes widened as he fixed his gaze on the two identical birds.   “Where did the other turkey come from?”

Teresa dipped her head and sighed.  “I’m sorry about yesterday.  After I calmed down, I realized I should have just sent you to town to buy one.   I really didn’t expect you to catch one…,” she smiled, “I mean…without shooting it to pieces.”

“You didn’t answer the question.  Where did you get the other turkey?”

“Maria and I decided to send Frank to town to buy one…just in case.   Thank goodness they had two left.  It cost more than I thought it would, but… well, there it is.”  

Johnny glared at her.  “And you couldn’t have done that in the first place?”

“Well, I thought a wild turkey would taste better and be more traditional.   I’m sorry I doubted you.”

Murdoch’s gaze went between his son and Teresa.  “It doesn’t really matter where the turkeys came from …does it?”

While Scott lowered his head, hiding a smile, Johnny closed his eyes and rubbed the bruise on his chin.  

Murdoch cleared his throat.  “Scott?”

“No, sir.  It doesn’t matter where they came from.  I’m quite sure they’ll taste exactly the same.  Isn’t that right, brother?”

“Yeah.”  Johnny sat back down.  “I bet you won’t be able to tell the difference.”

******

As the family settled in the Great Room after the feast, Teresa looked at Johnny with a smile.  “Your turkey was delicious.  I know you went through a lot to get it for us, and there wasn’t one bullet hole.”

Murdoch sipped his coffee.  “So, son, you took my advice and used the lasso?”

“Yeah.” Johnny swallowed hard and forced a smile.  “Once we figured out what to do, it was easy.”

“Well, I believe you and your brother will be officially in charge of the Thanksgiving turkey from now on.”

“It took us a while to catch him,” Scott straightened. “Next year, it might take longer.  At least a whole day.”

“Then it takes a day.  The ranch can spare you if it makes Teresa and Maria happy.”

Johnny realized what Scott was doing.  Next year, they’d spend the entire day sitting in the saloon, then buy a turkey to bring home. 

Finally, Johnny couldn’t help himself.  “Teresa, just how much did you pay for that bird?”

“Five dollars.  Why?”

Scott and Johnny exchanged looks.   “Just curious.”

Now, Johnny understood the sly grin on the merchant’s face when Scott paid him. Their turkey had cost them twice as much, but it was worth it.   He never wanted to chase after a wild turkey again. The memory of those fierce, glinting red eyes glaring at him haunted him and sent shivers down his spine.

Suddenly, Johnny didn’t feel so bad about leaving his torn and muddy clothes for Teresa to mend and wash. 

 

End
November 2024

 

 

Notes:

Bet you didn’t know:

Unlike domestically raised turkeys, wild turkeys can fly at speeds up to 55 miles per hour, but usually only for short distances of about 100 yards or less. They use their flight to escape predators and roost in trees at night. Wild turkeys can also run up to 12 miles per hour and swim.   Wild turkeys use their wings and tails to adjust their flight paths and make sudden directional changes. They can drop from perched locations when they leave the roost or fly into trees during the day.

 

--

Sandy Sharp (SandySha)