{"id":623,"date":"2020-06-15T00:59:00","date_gmt":"2020-06-15T00:59:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/?p=623"},"modified":"2020-06-13T18:58:46","modified_gmt":"2020-06-13T18:58:46","slug":"spiders","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/2020\/06\/15\/spiders\/","title":{"rendered":"“Spiders” by Don Noel"},"content":{"rendered":"\n


Cindy Swenson, who fed the crew, was afraid of the black widows in the basement of the bunkhouse on the high mountain range. \u201cScorpions I can live with,\u201d she told Simon. \u201cBig enough they\u2019re hard to miss. Spiders hide in the spaces between things, and sneak up on you.\u201d

Three years older than the student cowboys, Simon didn\u2019t exactly fear the little bastards, but understood they had enough poison to make a man sick for days or even weeks. If for no other purpose than impressing Cindy, he might have gone after them.

He did nothing at first, though, because the younger four were mesmerized. Students at the vo-tech high school down in the valley, they were up there because their instructor, Mr. Keppelbaum, had persuaded the ranch manager to take them on as \u201cinterns.\u201d

They were managing 300 cattle, mostly brown-and-white Herefords, spread out over the Circle T\u2019s government-leased summer range. The Inyo-Whites were built of the same massive granite blocks as the Sierra Nevada across the Owens Valley, but were bulky rather than jagged, having been spared glacial etching.

The terrain was sparse grazing, more sagebrush and dwarf juniper than grass; keeping track of the cattle\u2019s browsing peregrinations demanded attention. Almost all the cows had nursing calves in tow. The bulls, their season\u2019s work accomplished, wandered even more widely, sometimes a half day\u2019s ride apart.

Merrick, the wrangler who supervised the student cowboys \u2013 Keppelbaum came up only one day a week \u2013 won the kids\u2019 attention the first day with advice on scorpions. \u201cTurn each boot upside down before you put it on, and thwack it hard against the bench,\u201d he told them as they gathered in the basement locker room. \u201cThey like to curl up overnight someplace cozy like down in the toe.\u201d And sure enough, someone dislodged a scorpion that very morning, to be quickly dispatched with the heel of the same boot.

Merrick was a rangy, clean-shaven veteran with short-cropped grizzled hair. His roan mare knew the mountain so well that he could focus on the cattle. He quickly saw that Simon knew what he was doing, and so dispatched him after breakfast most mornings on his own: \u201cRide down Crooked Creek to where it joins Wyman, and eyeball the cattle down there. Be sure nobody\u2019s limping or looking logy. Count \u2018em; should be 22. And watch for catamount sign.\u201d

A mountain lion had taken a two-year-old heifer a week earlier over on the Lazy J allotment just to the north, and might be on the hunt again any day. Merrick carried a .30-30 rifle in a scabbard slung over his saddle horn.

The kids under his tutelage rode well enough, but were teen-agers. Once they became aware of the basement\u2019s arachnid decoration, every one of them contrived a smartphone selfie alongside a female spider on its web, the telltale red hourglass prominent on its belly. They emailed the photos to girlfriends, who presumably shivered with delight at such bravery.

Simon might have done that himself, but his first two years at State U had been a grind that left him little time for amorous pursuits; he had no girlfriend to impress. Having grown up on a ranch back in the Dakotas, he was fully qualified for this summer job, and keeping track of meandering cattle on a range with cold clean air and magnificent vistas was welcome work.

Merrick evidently understood the kids\u2019 fascination with the spiders, and was indulgent when one of them decided to mark each website with crimson spray paint, a blotch the size of a silver dollar. The basement soon looked as though there\u2019d been an epidemic of giant measles.

Which got Cindy\u2019s attention. Her job involved daily trips to the basement pantry and longer forays once or twice a week to do laundry. The morning after the painting party, the red spots made her aware of two webs between the open ceiling rafters of the pantry, and another above the laundry tubs. Her ultimatum: Either the spiders went or she did.

As blonde and buxom as you\u2019d expect of a Swede, she drove up daily to look after the vo-tech cowboy kids, which meant Simon and Merrick ate a lot better than the cowboy grub they would have made themselves. Her daytime presence was for Simon compensation for spending his evenings with a distinctly juvenile crew of bunkmates.

\u201cSpiders? Burn \u2018em,\u201d Merrick advised. \u201cTell Cindy to bring one of those hand-held propane torches from a hardware store.\u201d

\u201cGot it,\u201d Cindy whispered to Simon next morning. \u201cHang around after breakfast.\u201d

Having a conspiratorial secret with a handsome young woman was a new experience. They waited until the kids had saddled up and headed out with Merrick, and went downstairs together. Simon screwed the torch assembly onto the tank, and Cindy brought it to life with a match.

The paint blotches made the job easy. They started in the pantry, went on to the laundry tubs and then the rest of the way around the basement. All it took was a quick blast of flame. After each spider had been turned into an ashball, Simon incinerated the web, and let the flame play briefly on the space between the wall or rafter to which the webs had been appended. \u201cJust in case there are babies back there,\u201d he told her.

\u201cMy hero!\u201d she said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek that might have been a promise of something more. \u201cI\u2019ll hide the tank in a cardboard box in the pantry in case any more turn up.\u201d

The cowboy kids seemed unaware that their black widow pets had disappeared. The red paint blotches were still there, and they all had photographic evidence, so no one bothered inspecting for new webs or captured prey.

Two days later, though, soon after the kids had gone off with Merrick, another showed up. In the half-enclosed bathroom, an old-fashioned cast-iron sink was bolted to the wall, a porcelain-coated white shell with deep hollows underneath. The spider must have been dozing in those depths \u2013 \u201cmaybe digesting its latest kill,\u201d Merrick said later \u2013 when the paint-balling and torching went on.

Simon had done a few chores nearby, and came back to use the toilet. There was a new gossamer web, two handspans wide, stretching the whole space from under the sink to the concrete floor. He buckled his jeans, flushed and closed the toilet and sat down again to admire the widow\u2019s handiwork. It was elaborately, geometrically patterned, and must have been entirely woven in the hour since everyone had set out to work.

As he sat there, a scorpion appeared, scuttling along on the floor, obviously unaware of the danger ahead. It had just barged into the web when he heard footsteps on the stair.

\u201cCindy!\u201d he whispered. \u201cCome look at this! Don\u2019t be scared!\u201d

The urgency in his voice made her cautious, but she edged over. \u201cIs it safe?\u201d

\u201cWe\u2019re okay. The scorpion\u2019s not. Here, have a seat, and stay quiet. Let\u2019s see what happens next.\u201d He gave her the toilet seat and squatted down on his haunches.

The scorpion thrashed around, trying to free itself but succeeding only in becoming hopelessly enmeshed.

Then suddenly the spider appeared, racing down her web. Simon had only a moment to wonder why spiderwebs were sticky to the prey but not to the predator when she paused a few inches above the scorpion, dancing a little jig.

The scorpion thrashed again. \u201cHe\u2019s trying to aim his tail at her,\u201d Simon whispered. \u201cThat\u2019s where his stinger is.\u201d

Cindy was obviously fascinated, past fear. \u201cHe\u2019s out of luck,\u201d she whispered back.

Sure enough, in another moment the scorpion was immobilized in silk. The spider danced a bit more, then pounced onto the head with what was obviously a decisive poisoned bite. Then just as quickly as she had come down, she raced back up her web and disappeared into the hollow underside of the sink, leaving the scorpion in death throes.

\u201cGot your smartphone, Cindy?\u201d

\u201cRight. Wait here.\u201d

Cindy had hardly gotten back when the spider reappeared. This time, instead of dancing down the web, she lowered herself down on a new single strand that she was apparently spinning as she came.

Click!

\u201cGreat shot, Cindy!\u201d

The black widow landed on the scorpion\u2019s head, and deployed two forelegs in long, sweeping arcs, cutting the dead creature free from the web that had been its undoing.

Click! Click!

In what seemed only moments, the widow had the body free of her snare. She then planted her legs firmly on the scorpion\u2019s corpse, and began ascending the single strand she had come down on, hauling her prize back up. Simon was reminded of an ancient comic strip he\u2019d seen whose top-hatted character Jiggs sat with steelworkers on I-beams being hoisted aloft.

Click! \u201cDo you suppose she reels that thread back into her belly?\u201d Cindy asked.

\u201cBeats me. But it\u2019s the strongest stuff in the world, I\u2019ve read.\u201d

\u201cYou read up and tell me later. However it works, that\u2019s a handsome little freight elevator.\u201d Click!

In another moment, both spider and scorpion disappeared into the hollows under the sink.

\u201cOkay, I\u2019ve got to get to work, Cindy. We\u2019ll leave her enjoy the meal.\u201d

\u201cNo way! I\u2019ll go get the burner.\u201d

\u201cWait! How about a little scientific inquiry? Don\u2019t you want to know how long that meal lasts?\u201d

\u201cNot particularly.\u201d

\u201cDays, at least. Maybe weeks. We could keep an eye on it.\u201d

\u201cI\u2019d just as soon torch it now.\u201d

Simon persisted. He wanted to know if a male would show up, having somehow evaded the flames that wiped out the others. He wanted to learn how to identify spider egg sacs and see if the feasting widow laid any. He wanted to be on watch when she emerged to weave a new web to catch another scorpion.

\u201cAll that?\u201d she asked.

\u201cLearning about arachnid life. You could help.\u201d

\u201cSounds too sophisticated for this country girl. Will watching help your college study?\u201d

\u201cYes,\u201d he lied.\u201c

“And then<\/span> you\u2019ll torch it?”

\u201cOkay.\u201d

\u201cPromise?\u201d

He hesitated. \u201cThere\u2019s a rhythm to these critters\u2019 lives. I want to learn it. Then yes.\u201d

\u201cOkay,\u201d she relented. \u201cAnd thank you for calling me. I wouldn\u2019t have missed it.\u201d She leaned over, apparently to offer another kiss on the cheek.

Seeing it coming, Simon turned to catch it on his lips.

She let the kiss linger a moment, gossamer-light, then pulled back. \u201cHow\u2019s about we catch a movie in town one of these nights?\u201d

Amazing what webs spiders spin, he thought. \u201cYou\u2019re on.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n


Retired after four decades’ prizewinning print and broadcast journalism in Hartford CT, I received my MFA in Creative Writing from Fairfield University in 2013. I have since published more than four dozen short stories and non-fiction pieces, but have two novellas and a novel still looking for publishers.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Cindy Swenson, who fed the crew, was afraid of the black widows in the basement of the bunkhouse on the high mountain range. \u201cScorpions I can live with,\u201d she told Simon. \u201cBig enough they\u2019re hard to miss. Spiders hide in the spaces between things, and sneak up on you.\u201d Three years older than the student … Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":691,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-623","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/06\/kelly-sikkema-Z895fnYRbog-unsplash.jpg?fit=640%2C424&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/623","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=623"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/623\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":656,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/623\/revisions\/656"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/691"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=623"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=623"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=623"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}