(Copyright ©2000 by Kristofer Dale, all rights reserved.)

Twilight, and windswept dust settles into still night as the horses graze with weary contentment just beyond a campfire's wavering reach. But for it, the chill creeping into dusk air would seem threatening to bones long used to the saddle's demands. With two calves still missing, the day's endeavor is left unfinished, yet ultimately the work is never done 'til the day you drop in your traces, and for now such concerns fall away like autumn leaves.

Scant news from home brings rumors of war, but here it seems like a dream, dreamt by the insane; how could anyone else take life for granted in such a way? On cue, wailing floats down from a nearby barranca; life goes on and the natives know it. Such peace as this would seem menacing to the city-bound, yet the comforting knowledge of this wild presence bodes well, coyotes having little trust of men in general or outlaws in particular.

No time for anything fancy, you wash down beans and jerky with the last of the coffee, wrapping up in a bedroll, sure in the knowledge that you are an intrinsic part of this time and place. The icy starlight makes way for the rising moon, looking dry. With a grunt your partner signs off for the day. You sniff the last curl of cedar smoke, move in close to the remaining heat and sleep the sleep of the dead...