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 The evening was one of those that come back to you
time after time, year after long year. It comes back and whispers of
how good life can be when you’re well fed, enjoying life, and a good
friend shares the front porch with you on a summer’s evening.
It was that way with Doc and Steve the other night. Doc thought he
might have to do a scientific paper on the soporific effects of ice
tea, fried chicken, and corn on the cob. As long as it didn’t take
any effort.
So when this huge meal had been bull-snaked down, the two grinning
friends came out to the porch to watch the sun go down behind the
trees along Lewis Creek. The air had that orange and russet glow,
and the breeze, that little one that caresses the neck, came slowly
down from the hills and made their shirt collars wiggle ever so
slightly.
It was like taking a dry bath in paradise.
Doc sidled up to one of the porch posts and gently tested it to see
if it could hold the extra weight he was carrying with that meal. It
stood fine, so he leaned against it seriously and looked out on the
evening’s warmth.
Steve, who was enjoying having a fine meal that someone else cooked
for a change, leaned against the post on the other side of the
steps.
And then they just stood quietly, watching the day make beautiful
skies as it ended. [to top of second
column] |
The shadow on the ground
foretold the presence of the circling bird. Doc and Steve paid no
attention at first. Then a few minutes later, it was joined by two
more circling birds over Doc’s house.
“Buzzards,” Steve mumbled.
“Yep,” said Doc.
They circled some more.
“I think one of us should move a little …” said Doc.
“Move?”
“Well … to let them know … you know.”
Steve sighed, then glanced over at Doc. “Flip you for it.”
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
Brought to
you by Saddle Up: Cowboy Guide to Writing, by Slim Randles. Check it
out at Rio Grande Books.com.
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