Paw Prints

Writer's Cramp entry

Settling down for the night seemed impossible, but if the last two years had taught Jacob anything, it was to be able to fall asleep no matter what the circumstances. Between sleeping on the deck of the steamers, in a wagon surrounded by lowing cattle, and in a crowded miners’ tent, Jacob had long perfected being able to sleep wherever he rested his head.

Tonight was no exception as the small mountaintop clearing was getting more crowded as travelers kept pouring into it from the trail. Every time there were new arrivals, the clamor of disbelief and anger rose anew at the lack of sleeping quarters in the so-called hotel and the lack of food in the so-called restaurant. Jacob was sitting up against a tree towards the end of the clearing where he would continue his journey the next morning, his eyes were closed, and he had almost fallen asleep when the crowd around the clearing quickly quieted as a shout rose from the tree line behind them.

Jacob sighed; he was not going to get any sleep at this moment. He slowly rose from the ground and headed over to where the furious shouting was slowly gaining volume as others joined in.

“I’m telling you, it’s a jaguar for sure!” One man insisted, gesturing to the ground. He was taller than the rest and rose over the crowd. Judging by the little wear of his pants, he was new to the region and heading to California.

One of the others beside him spat on the ground, some of the spittle clinging to his long, tangled brown beard that looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. The customary knife hung from his belt, and his long-brimmed hat hung low over his eyes. “Ye’re daft, greenhorn!” He said, his low, rough voice overriding the high-pitched panic. “‘Tain big enough for a jag! More like a dog. Now go to sleep!”

The debate grew louder as increasingly grumpy; tired men were brought into the argument. Soon two sides were evident. The fresh-faced adventurers were just beginning their journey, and the jaded, hardened men returning home were disappointed in the lack of success in the gold fields.

Suddenly, a roar sounded from the dense jungle. “It’s the Jaguar!” Men began to back up toward the Washington Hotel, but there were so many travelers now that there was nowhere to go but into the unknown jungle.

Just inside the tree line, the branches of the trees started rusting heavily. “It’s above us and going to attack!” Jacob stood on the crowd’s edge, his pistol in his right hand and his large knife in the other. He was ready for anything but figured any predator would probably go for the noisy ones first.

A dark shape leaped from the branches and landed in front of them. Silence reigned in the clearing for the first time since Jacob had arrived as they all stared at the cat in front of them. Its various brown and cream shades looked more like splotches than the distinctive spots that jaguars are known for. As its size registered, loud laughter rang throughout the mountains.

“It’s ocelot.” The quiet voice beside Jacob brought his attention downward. The short Spanish man. “Small, like pet. Very smart, likes to play.” Jacob just shook his head and returned to his gear under the tree. The merriment around him slowly lulled him to sleep.