August to September – @ubree
August
Lil,
The prairie’s rot, even in the morning. Everything is either brittle, hollow, or scratch-dry. I even tried to pour some spirits over a bone I came across. I thought some of it might get soaked up but, no, it ran right off. Lets you know how long a thing’s been dead. I think we’ve all mistaken the poison for fresh blood just to cool the night. Everything feels good and damp for a little while but then we get trapped under its canopy, and then the canopy sways and promises to pour. So we howl at it to give it one back and to stay awake under the gathering weight. A gentle quiet like a mother follows.
The moon gets gone fast. Morning stars, critters, beans, rinds, mud (or what we used to know as “coffee”): we toss it all on the popping flame and everyone turns orange.
There are four of us and only three ponies now. Dub went down hard in the crick and twisted something. Everybody agreed it was best to put him out but no one seemed to have any bullets left, the discovery of which made us see and hear all kinds of peculiar things. (Mind, only some of them real.)
By the fourth day soaking in the same sun my shirt doesn’t smell nearly as bad. I’ve been dreaming while I ride and I’ve almost forgotten everything about the depot. Dub was trailing us by a train car’s length until late last night. I refused to double up so Jake took Avery on.
Something must have picked Dub off or else he just gave up. Up to Avery to figure things out when we ride in again. When we do, I’ll be sending you this letter. When we do, I’ll figure out about this itch. I tried all day long but I couldn’t picture your ears anymore. We’ll need bullets – that’s really the first thing. I hope that by writing it down it will help me to remember…
I think I cracked a rib laughing when I got your letter. But you mention a photograph and I shook the paper like a goose and nothing like a photograph fell out so I backtracked practically halfway back to the depot. I rode looking so tight in the jaw that nobody even asked what we went back for till we finally stopped.
Funny to look at progress as it vanishes under you. We could see where Dub started to fade and where he gave a good last push right before he dropped down to his knees.
They didn’t ask – they all figured I’d tracked back for Dub and I worked up tears because I hadn’t found you anywhere. I often wondered whether any of the others grasped that I had done it solely to avoid looking a fool.
- @ubree
“I often wondered whether any of the others grasped that I had done it solely to avoid looking a fool.”
-Shooting an Elephant by George Orwell
