Pursuit

            Cynthia often what she looked like at full gallop in the park, her horse thundered across the grass beneath her. She and Simmons were in hot pursuit dodging around benches and fence posts. The perp was sprinting on foot for the tree-line in hopes of losing them in the wooded thicket. She listened to the drumming of the hooves on the dirt pathways broken into staccato of the concrete walks. The song of pursuit sung in her veins like liquid electricity. She imagined her hair flying around her head instead of being pulled back tightly under her cap.

            The pair charged around the new art school statue skidding on the loose rock as the perp scrambled into the wood thicket. She was amazed that the guy was still ahead of them. He should have been winded after that sprint across the green, but he hardly slowed as he wove into the thicket. She looked over to Simmons as they pulled their horses up to a stop in front of the thicket.

            “He’s going for the boat dock.” Simmons said over his shoulder.

            “Right- you go to the right around the storage facility, I will go round the other way, and we should be able to take him at the pass!” Simmons’s eyebrows went up at that.

            “At the pass?”

            “I meant cut him off before he can get away.” Simmons just shook his head as he wheeled his horse to the right.

            “Be careful, partner.” He drawled. “Don’t get your self shot by them cowboys!”

            “Simmons.”

Cynthia stopped speaking to grin and then sped her horse off to the left of the thicket. She glanced back into the thick of the trees catching a flash of the white shirt the perp was wearing as he dodged clumsily around trees. He was racing like a man stumbling drunk from the bar. As she rounded the thicket, the perp burst out of the tree-line and raced down the final slope towards the lake and boat dock. She rode into his wake, her horse running flat out, its eyes goggling, nostrils flared wide, steaming breath puffing out like a train.

Cynthia was on him and suddenly he cut left hard as she raced over the spot he had just been.  She pulled her horse into a wide u-turn, catching sight of Simmons pulling in front of the zigzagging runner at the boat dock. She crouches up into her saddle jockey style to gain speed. They close their net and it looks as if Simmons has him when the running man does a baseball power slide under his horse and survives. The runner scrambles to his feet and hurries on leaving Simmons stunned and looking at the ground. Cynthia dodges around him yelling incoherently.

The perp runs on but his speed is failing, he stumbles then sprawls down on his face but scrambles back up almost immediately. Simmons catches up to Cynthia as she slows her horse to a fast canter after the perp. He looks pissed and embarrassed.

“If you ever tell-“he begins.

“-I won’t describe the dumb look of disbelief on your face.” She finishes for him

“I will personally kick you of the Nag you are riding.”

“Where do you think he’s planning to go now?”

“I hope he won’t, I don’t feel like swimming.”

Then the both of them see the girl in the boat along with the perp. The perp starts yelling after the woman.

“Dammit.” Cynthia cusses.

The perp runs, skips like a long jumper and throws himself off the dock into the air towards the boat. The girl screams and covers her head. He almost makes it, at least his feet does, but the rest of his body- knees and up- does not. His butt hits the water with a flat wallop arms flailing as he goes under.

Cynthia pulls her horse up as the laughter bubbles up in her throat. Simmons joins her after a bit. The girl keeps on screaming until Simmons gathers himself together long enough to punch Cynthia on the shoulder. She almost falls out of the saddle. He jumps down from his horse and jogs along the dock as the perp surfaces in a panic.

Cynthia sighs and drops to the ground then strolls stiffly up the dock to join Simmons who is reassuring the fraught teenager to calm her down. Finally after some coxing the girl manages to from a line of rope from the boat to Simmons while Cynthia keeps an eye on the perp who is now clutching the side of the boat. Simmons pulls the boat to the dock and receives an instant armful of the blonde and scantily clad girl as she clambers in to his arms. He is both shocked and pleased and grins over the girl’s shoulder showing the white of his perfect teeth.

Cynthia glares at him and chuckles as she reaches down to haul the perp up out of the water and dump him on the dock. He lies there in total submission, bruised and looking like a wet sock. His sweats clinging to his skinning and boney body as he continues to gulp for air shivering. Swimming in late fall is not necessarily a good idea in New York.

“You should never run or swim away from the mounted police.” Cynthia states with a grin.