Midnight-spirit!
Squeak! The equine’s
head pivoted to “eyes-front” on the hanging entry door to the ramshackle
barn-servicing-as-a-stable where he spied “Old” Ned entering the darkness.
"Damn! Door!” Old Ned cursed. “Been meaning to fix and oil that noisy alarm,”
Sa-kam-ta did not understand his master’s lament but he whinnied a “Welcome” to the man.
“Reckon he’s about a half-mile yonder in
the boulder-nest by the stream.” He nodded in the direction he meant as he
patted the cayuse’s broad neck and rubbed his muzzle.
Gazing through the black interior toward
the opening of the annoying squeaky door where pale, grey light outlined the
portal, Ned offered an opinion.
“Come sun-up,” he offered, speaking
softly while petting his friend, “we’ll tack-up and take a ride over yonder,
along with my 30/30 and see if we can’t quiet that dirty interloper.
“Might get lucky so’s we can get a full night’s shut0eye tomorrow night.” He
gave a shot nod.
After a silent minute listening for the
call-of-ole-wiley-coyote, Ned shrugged, deciding the critter had abandoned the
night-call and slithered into some deep hole for warmth; he fished a plug of
tobacco from a vest pocket and took a small chaw, chewing slowly and listening
intently.
Three streams of dark brown tobacco
juice spat into the dark confines of the barn directed at the tender sound of an unseen active rodent, Old
Ned patted his warrior steed’s muscled neck and said a kind “Good night! Sa-kam-ta! See you in a few
hours for some ‘Fun ’n Games!”
A squeak emanated from the ancient door as Ned exited; a coyote note pierced the chill night.
The end
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