Wyatt Cochrane's Blog

The Good, the Bad, and the Author

Sat, 10 Sep 2022 07:49:58 -0700

How do I start? It's been an interesting few months.The Good

At the end of August, I was blessed to celebrate the joining of my amazing daughter and the man of her dreams.

The Bad

Starting last fall, I felt my energy wane. Last November, I was setting up a self feeder for my old rope horse, and something popped in my back.

We spent Christmas in Texas with our two youngest daughters. As always, we had a wonderful time, but the pain in my lower back migrated up to my lower rib area, and my energy remained low.

In January, I tested positive for COVID. Nothing serious. Flu symptoms for a couple of days.

When we got home, I saw my chiropractor. Back/rib pain not resolved. Saw my doctor in April, had x-rays, got some cream for the pain, but it didn't help.

Fast forward to July. A sharp pain behind my right shoulder blade tore me from my bed and into the emergency room. Not a heart attack or a blood clot, but cancer that had spread to my spine and ribs.

My doctor told me to get my affairs in order.

I live in Canada. We have socialized medicine and long wait times. While waiting the three to four weeks to meet with an oncologist, I researched (that's what I do), and I fasted for 21 days, and I took all kinds of supplements.

My daughters all came home. We had a wonderful visit. It was magical for me to have them all together. I felt better every day. More energetic, to the point, I was packing adobe on the outside wall of our straw bale house. I thought I had it figured.

Until I didn't. One bright Sunday morning, I woke up to find I couldn't walk. The cancer was pushing on my spine. Now the oncologist had time for me, and urged me to make the five hour drive to the cancer center as quickly as I could get there.

Five radiation sessions later, I was home, hobbling around the house using a walker, and hoping and praying for enough strength to get to the wedding. As you can see by the picture, I made it.

The Author

Fast forward to today. Since coming home I've had good days and bad, with yesterday being the best yet in terms of energy and mobility.

Your response to my first Jubal Cain book has been amazing! And if Amazon pre-orders are any indication, you're looking forward to book two. I'm back writing, and will do everything I can to get it published by the end of the month. But in case I don't, I apologize in advance.

Health first.

Thank you all so much for your ongoing support.

Wyatt

posted by Wyatt Cochrane on September, 11

Texas Bound!

Thu, 02 Dec 2021 13:11:20 -0800

The wind was howling in Spokane, and I worried the takeoff might be rough. It was smooth as a mountain lake on a calm summer evening. We bounced along eastbound and made it to Dallas in less than three hours.

I’m excited. I love Texas, where it’s still cool to be a cowboy. I was here a couple of weeks ago, but only for a few days. This time were staying for five weeks. It looks like bluebird weather for as far as the forecast reaches. I’m excited to get out of the rain. but I’m not complaining. We needed the moisture.

Our girls have a barn full of horses and pens of calves and longhorn steers. They rope and ride almost every day. In fact, they're out there right now, and I'm about to join them.

I want to visit San Angelo and walk along the Concho River and maybe drive north and spend some time in the Palo Duro Canyon. We’ll see how things go.

I’d also like to go south to Big Bend National Park and spend some time in the desert. I wasn't sure how safe it is with all that’s going on along the US/Mexican border, but by all accounts, it's not popular with the cartels, and people are enjoying the park with no problems.

I spent a few years patrolling the border between the United States and Canada, but it feels different to be out there carry a camera and a notepad instead of a gun and a badge.

On the book front, I'm reading "The Awakening" by Nora Roberts. I'm almost finished and I've enjoyed the story a lot! I read widely, and I find books I like in all genres.

What are you reading now? Let me know in the comments :)

posted by Wyatt Cochrane on December, 03

Favorite Read of the Year - Lonesome Dove

Tue, 19 Feb 2019 17:25:19 -0800

843 pages and not once bored. They say writers are readers. If you go by me, this is true I reread a western classic this month, Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry. On the surface, it's a tale of two retired Texas Rangers, Woodrow Call and Gus McCrae, taking 3000 head of cattle from the Rio Grande to the Milk River in Montana. In the late 1860s/early1870s, driving 3000 head of cattle from the border with Mexico to the border with Canada was a recipe for adventure -- and adventures they had. Beyond the adventure, Lonesome Dove is a story of friendship and love and loss. It's a story about duty and honor and sacrifice. I've watched the television series at least twice and now read the book again. In my younger days, I thought Gus was the hero. This time through I related most to Woodrow, a man trapped by his character and nature, who in the later part of his life is forced to reflect on what he has done and who he is. I laughed and cried and contemplated my own life. I haven't enjoyed a book this much in years. f you love tales of the old west, you owe it to yourself to read Lonesome Dove. Buy it now by clicking on the link below.

posted by Wyatt Cochrane on February, 21

Cheyenne Showdown Released Nov. 22 - Sneak peak

Sun, 18 Nov 2018 18:34:02 -0800

CHAPTER ONE Crossing the river The buckskin and the two pack horses waded most of the way across the Yellowstone. Near the south shore the bottom fell away and they had to swim, plunging Thorn Marshall into the icy water. His body spasmed and his lungs locked, then he gasped and clutched the saddle horn as the powerful horses churned through the flood. On the south bank the horses grazed and rested, while the warm May sun dried Thorn's clothes. Last fall, the deepest water barely touched the bottom of his saddle strings. He felt torn..., uncertain. Maybe Mowatt was right and he needed to wait. CHAPTER TWO Elly Courted A short while later, Brunson stepped onto the porch. "It's Thorn," he shouted back into the building, a toothy smile splitting his face. "Good to see you, young man. It's been awhile." Thorn smiled back. "Seemed like every time I wanted to come, Rufus had a more pressing need." Both men laughed. "Looks like you got wet," Brunson said. "You should have come down and let me bring you over. I'll probably pull the ferry later this week, then there'll be no crossing 'til spring runoff's done." Malaise gnawed the back of Thorn's mind. He looked down at his boots. "Figured I better get supplies, before that happens." After tending to his horses, Thorn entered the trading post. The scent of fresh baked bread filled the room. His mouth watered. "Smells good. You're a lucky man." Brunson's wife breezed into the store from the private rooms in the back. "He is a lucky man," she said, smiling. "Take your coffee out on the porch, it's a beautiful day. I'll bring out fresh bread." As the men sat waiting for the steaming brew to cool, a small cloud passed in front of the sun. A distinct chill in the air sent a shiver down Thorn's spine. Across the valley near a small grove of trees, crows took to the air cawing angrily. "Must be something dead," Thorn said. "It's an elk," Brunson said. "Wolves took down the old herd bull. I always left him. Just liked watching him; he was something to see. I suppose age and winter finally weakened him. Now the crows and coyotes are picking over all that's left." Both men stared into their coffees, until the sun burst back out and Brunson's daughter Abby breezed onto the porch. She carried a tray filled with thick slices of warm bread, slathered in butter and Saskatoon berry preserves. She looked from her father to Thorn and beyond. "It's only me," Thorn said. "Mamma told me you were here. It's good to see you. It's time you came to visit," she said, with a warm, genuine smile that made the day even brighter. For a brief moment, Thorn pushed down his thoughts of Elly and thought only of his friends here in Montana. "Ruf wanted to come, but Mowatt insisted I get out for a day. He said I was getting cabin fever. He can be a bit of a bully you know," Thorn said with a chuckle. I'm glad you came," Abby said, tugging on Thorn's sleeve and gracing him with more of her lovely smile. Two hours later, Thorn packed bacon and beans into the panniers he would hang from the pack saddles. He hoisted first one, then the other, ensuring each weighed the same. The last thing he needed was a sore backed pack horse. "Wish you'd stay the night," Abby said. "It's lonely around here this time of year." The offer was tempting, but he said, "I need to get back. Lot's to do before I head to Cheyenne." "When are you going?" "I wanted to go now, but Mowatt says it's too early." "He's right," Brunson said, overhearing the conversation, as he stepped back onto the porch with the last of Thorn's merchandise. "Look there!" Abby said, pointing. "John and Caleb." Across the valley, four big black Percheron mules leaned back, easing a heavy freight wagon down the draw and across the side hill. "Now we'll have plenty of stock until after the thaw," she continued. "Where they coming from?" Thorn asked. "Cheyenne," Brunson replied. Thorn's heart leaped. "I thought it was too early for the trail," he said, watching the teamsters guide the big mules across and down the steep hill. "Is," Brunson replied.

posted by Wyatt Cochrane on February, 21

War Wounds Sneak Peak - click to read more

Thu, 15 Nov 2018 10:19:20 -0800

Chapter 1 Thorn Marshall forced a smile and strode into the saloon. “Time to call ‘er a night boys,” he said to his men at the far end of the plank and whiskey-barrel bar. “Awe Thorn,” Red, the taller of the two men said. “We ain’t had our turn with the girl. Them cowboys drinking at the other end got here ‘fore us.” “How many of them have gone?” Thorn asked. Art, the other man, grinned. “Two. Second one’s upstairs now. Jes’ four to go and then it’ll be our turn.” “I’ll give you boys an hour.” Glee burst across Red’s face. “We’ll be ready boss.” An hour later, everything packed and ready, Thorn buckled the straps on his saddlebags. He didn’t mind the men having a little fun. Towns would be few and far between after tonight. His men stood in the same spot at the bar. “All right boys, time’s up,” Thorn said. “But boss, we ain’t gone up yet.” “I gave you an hour.” The bartender, a giant of a man, walked over. “Drink?” he asked Thorn, holding out a whiskey bottle and a glass. “No thanks.” “The boys will be done soon, then you fellas can have your turn.” “We can’t wait,” Thorn replied. “How about a drink on the house?” “Thanks, but no. Come on boys.” Red looked from the bartender to Art to Thorn. “It won’t be a minute now. Please boss.” They all looked to the wide wooden stairway as a grinning young cowboy, scampered down, followed by a heavy, older saloon girl with thin blonde ringlets. Another young cowboy blushed and giggled “I reckon I’m next.” “You gonna be able to get your pecker hard this time?” one of the other cowboys asked. “I reckon I am,” the young cowboy said, his face glowing even redder. “Hold on sweetheart,” the woman said. “Give a girl a chance to catch her breath. Bring me a drink Randolph.” The bartender waved her over. “These gentlemen are in a hurry,” he said. The girl squeezed Thorn’s upper arm and fluttered her eyelids. “I like this young one. Just as soon as I’m done with that last boy, I’ll be ready for you men.” Thorn pulled away and shook his head. “Half hour. No more!” A half hour later Thorn was back and his men still waited. “Come on. There’s a whorehouse on the edge of town. My treat.” “Closed,” Red said. “All the girls are sick.” The bartender moved from the other end of the bar. “Seems like they ain’t ready to leave,” he said, as he walked around the bar toward Thorn. “They hired on to do a job!” Thorn said. “Come on boys.” Red and Art started for the door. “Hold on men,” the bartender said. “I’ll buy you a drink while you wait. The only one needs to go is this young fellar right here.” He grabbed Thorn by the back of the arm and squeezed hard as he pushed him toward the door. Thorn jerked away. “I don’t want any trouble.” “It’s all right,” Red said. “You don’t wanna do that.” The bartender grabbed Thorn’s wrist and forced his arm behind his back. “I tried to do it the nice way.” The big man lifted on the arm until Thorn’s feet left the floor, his bent elbow and shoulder carrying all his weight. Just this way, the bartender had helped many drunken cowboys from the saloon to the muddy street. Art shook his head. “You don’t wanna do that.” Red, his face full of concern, stepped toward to the bartender. “It’s okay. We’re all going.” Thorn twisted, first one way and then the other, but the big man held on and lifted him even higher. Once high enough, Thorn jerked his head back, catching the big man’s nose. Blood sprayed. At the same time, Thorn kicked his legs higher than his head, then slammed them forward and down to the floor, throwing the big man over his shoulder and onto a nearby table. Splintered wood scattered around the room as the big man hit the floor and lay on his back. As he followed Red and Art from the saloon, Thorn turned and tossed a gold eagle toward the big man, laying dazed and bleeding on the floor. “For the table.” *** After Thorn left them, his men sat on dirty beds in the small run-down hotel room they shared. “Thorn’s too damn serious,” Red said. “Yes sir,” Art replied, “but he sure ‘nough handled that big galoot.” Red bent over and laughed until he coughed. “Didn’t know what hit ‘im. The ol’ Colonel taught that boy well.” “Shoulda taught him a man’s gotta have a woman ‘for he goes on the trail.” “Shoulda. And shoulda taught him a man needs a drink on the trail. Bet he never even thought of that.” “Go to sleep.” �Ԩ��.” Two hours later, the rhythmic sound of bed springs creaking and bed posts bouncing, on the floor above, woke Red. He shook his partner. Art sputtered and opened his eyes. “What the hell?” Red held a finger to his lips. “Shhhhh. We’re gonna get whiskey for the trail.” “Go to sleep! Everything’s closed. ‘Sides we promised we’d stay put.” “He won’t even know we left and I ain’t goin’ without a couple of bottles. Come on,” Red said, slipping into his pants. “Leave your boots off, ‘til we get outside.” A few minutes later, Red tried the back door of the saloon. “Damn it! Try that window.” Art pressed his palms against the glass and pushed. The window moved. Red grabbed his knife and pried, first one side and then the other until there was a good-sized gap. He worked the window up with his fingers. “Git in there and open the door.” “Why me?” “You’re smaller. I can’t fit.” Soon, the two men crept through the back of the saloon. Red scratched a match with his thumbnail and they tiptoed to the main hall, behind the bar. Red stretched up onto his toes, pulled three bottles of whiskey from the top-shelf, and passed them to Art. “That’s enough,” Art said, almost too quiet to hear. Giddy, Red struggled to hold his laughter. “One more.” “Who’s up?” the barkeep shouted from the second-floor. “Eileen?” Red grabbed one more bottle, and they rushed out the back-door.

posted by Wyatt Cochrane on February, 21

War Wounds Snippet 2 - click to read

Wed, 14 Nov 2018 16:40:18 -0800

At five a.m. Thorn already long awake, jumped out of bed, slipped into his clothes and picked up his saddle bags. He opened the straps and checked the contents one last time. Montana’s a long way off. He crept out of the room and lightly tapped on a door, a few rooms down the hall. No reply. He knocked a little louder. Nothing. He tried the knob and found it unlocked. He eased the door open. Gone! Five in the morning and gone! He should have known better than to trust them.
He pounded down the stairs and checked the dining room, knowing they wouldn’t be there. He marched to the livery. No one there. The saloon was dark. Everything in town was closed.
There was only one place they could be. There were no lights on in the Sheriff’s office. He cupped his hands around his eyes and pressed them against the window. Unable to see the cells, he trotted around back. He leaped up and grabbed the sill of the one of the two barred windows and pulled himself up. There, he found Red and Art sprawled on the bunks. He grabbed a bar with one hand, reached through with the other and tapped lightly on the glass. They didn’t move. “Dead drunk,�� he cursed.
“Who’s out there?�� the Sheriff demanded, pointing a shotgun out of a second floor window.
Thorn dropped to the ground, keeping his hands high. “Just looking for my men. I don’t want trouble. I’ll come around front.��
“You’ll do no such thing!�� the Sheriff barked. “You’ll come back at eight when I’m open. You and your boys have cost me enough sleep tonight.��
At eight ten they should have been a couple of hours on the trail. Instead, Thorn paced back and forth on the boardwalk, waiting for the Sheriff to come down and open for the day.
Once in the office, the Sheriff told Thorn that the men had been found at three in the morning, drunk and pounding on the door of the whorehouse.
“What will it take to get them released?�� Thorn asked.
“Well,�� the Sheriff explained. “Just being drunk and pounding of the whore house door would a cost them a night here and little fine, but breaking into the saloon and stealing several bottles of top-shelf whiskey’s another matter. The boys said their boss, I assume that’d be you, would pay for the hooch. I suppose if you paid Randolph for the whiskey and got him to drop the charges, I’d let these jaspers out for a ten dollar fine.��
“Ten dollars!��
“Each! Otherwise these boys are in my care until the circuit judge comes around in couple of weeks.��
“I can’t wait two weeks. I’ll pay for whatever they stole or broke. I’ll pay a fine, bail them out...��
“Sorry, young man, but those boys ain’t going nowhere, unless Randolph drops the charges.��
“If not, what happens?�� Thorn asked.
“Judge’ll probably give ‘em another couple of weeks and a fine. Maybe more.��
“For a few bottles of whiskey?��
“Top shelf whiskey. And the judges does like his top shelf.��
“I can’t even wait two weeks.��
“Well young man, you do have a problem,�� the Sheriff smiled, “but it ain’t my problem. Now get the hell out of my jail. I got things to do.��
A few minutes later, Thorn pushed open the door to the saloon. The blonde sat near the bar, nursing a cup of coffee. “Looks who’s here,�� she laughed. “Come for your turn?��
“No Ma’am, I was hoping I could talk to the owner.��
At that moment the bartender, came through a door from the back. “What the hell are you doing here,�� he snarled. His nose was swollen and he had two black eyes.
Thorn held up his hands. “I just want to pay for the whiskey my men took.��
“That was my best stuff, but, sure, you can pay. Forty dollars.��
“Forty dollars?��
“Like I said, it was my best stuff.��
Thorn pulled two double eagles from his pocket and set them on the bar. The bartender took them and tapped them on his palm. “Thank you. I’ll just put these away.�� He reached behind the bar and came up with a double barrel shotgun.
“I don’t want any trouble,�� Thorn said. “I just want to get my men out of jail.��
The bartender cocked both barrels. “Shoulda thought of that before you broke my nose. Now get the hell outta my bar!��
Thorn shuffled back to the hotel and payed for another night. He threw his saddle bags in the corner and fell back onto the bed. How could they do this to him? During the war, they’d been like older brothers, always teasing and laughing and helping him deal with the bad.
The Colonel called Red and Art his ‘privates for life�� and he’d warned Thorn not to let his friends drag him down. When Thorn had found them, down and out, it just seemed right to offer them the job. He hated to leave them, but if he was going to make Montana before the snows, he would have to find other men - men he could count on.
By nightfall, it felt as if he had spoken to every person in town. Any man not already engaged had gone off to work on the Northern Pacific Railroad. Two big herds that had come through town in the last month had taken a few more boys Even the young cowboys from the saloon had ridden out at first light, heading home to Oklahoma.
The day drawing to a close, Thorn stopped by the Sheriff’s office. “I brought the boys�� war bags,�� he said. The Sheriff pointed to a corner. “Can I see them?�� The Sheriff pointed to the doorway leading to the cells.
“I knew you’d get us out,�� Red laughed.
“Not this time boys. Looks like you’re going to be here awhile.��
“We’ll git on the trail as soon as we’re out,�� Art said.
“Be too late.��
“Did you find some other fellars to go with you?�� Red asked.
“Tried everywhere, but there’s no one.��
“Whatcha gonna do?�� Art asked.
“I guess I’ll go back to ridin�� shotgun.��
“What about your cows?�� Red asked.
“Sell ‘em I guess.��
“Awe Thorn. We let you down,�� Red said. “It’s all my fault.��
“No. It’s mine,�� Thorn answered.
“You can’t give up,�� Art argued. “Out of all of us, you’re the only one gonna make something of hisself. The ol�� Colonel knew that. Hell, we all did.��
“You gotta keep going,�� Red begged.
Sleepless hours later, Thorn tossed and turned. Maybe he could drive his little herd by himself. If he got far as Ogallala he would find cowboys to ride with him to Montana. If not Ogallala, surely Cheyenne.
After breakfast, he spotted a cavalry sergeant and two soldiers walking into the general store. He rushed over. “Sergeant, excuse me.��
The sergeant turned. “What can I do for you son? Are you looking to enlist. You’ll have to see our barber first,�� he joked.
“No sir,�� Thorn stammered. “I’m, I’m driving a little herd toward Ogallala or Cheyenne and am wondering if there�� been any Indian trouble in the last few weeks.��
“Matter of fact, we just got back from Cheyenne yesterday and had a quiet trip.��
“How was the grass and water?��
“Good, once you get off the beaten track. There’s been a couple of herds and several wagon trains, so you’ll have to skirt a little. When are you leaving?��
“I’m thinking I’ll leave today.��
“Good luck son. It’s been quiet for a while, but tell your crew to keep their eyes open and their powder dry. Them Cheyenne and Arapaho would like that pretty blonde scalp like yours.��

posted by Wyatt Cochrane on February, 21

War Wounds Sneak Peak - click to read more

Mon, 12 Nov 2018 14:07:34 -0800

Chapter 1

Thorn Marshall forced a smile and strode into the saloon. “Time to call ‘er a night boys,�� he said to his men at the far end of the plank and whiskey-barrel bar.

“Awe Thorn,�� Red, the taller of the two men said. “We ain’t had our turn with the girl. Them cowboys drinking at the other end got here ‘fore us.��

“How many of them have gone?�� Thorn asked.

Art, the other man, grinned. “Two. Second one’s upstairs now. Jes�� four to go and then it’ll be our turn.��

“I’ll give you boys an hour.�� Glee burst across Red’s face.

“We’ll be ready boss.��

An hour later, everything packed and ready, Thorn buckled the straps on his saddlebags. He didn’t mind the men having a little fun. Towns would be few and far between after tonight. His men stood in the same spot at the bar. “All right boys, time’s up,�� Thorn said.

“But boss, we ain’t gone up yet.��

“I gave you an hour.��

The bartender, a giant of a man, walked over. “Drink?�� he asked Thorn, holding out a whiskey bottle and a glass.

“No thanks.��

“The boys will be done soon, then you fellas can have your turn.��

“We can’t wait,�� Thorn replied.

“How about a drink on the house?��

“Thanks, but no. Come on boys.��

Red looked from the bartender to Art to Thorn. “It won’t be a minute now. Please boss.��

They all looked to the wide wooden stairway as a grinning young cowboy, scampered down, followed by a heavy, older saloon girl with thin blonde ringlets.

Another young cowboy blushed and giggled “I reckon I’m next.��

“You gonna be able to get your pecker hard this time?�� one of the other cowboys asked.

“I reckon I am,�� the young cowboy said, his face glowing even redder.

“Hold on sweetheart,�� the woman said. “Give a girl a chance to catch her breath. Bring me a drink Randolph.��

The bartender waved her over. “These gentlemen are in a hurry,�� he said.

The girl squeezed Thorn’s upper arm and fluttered her eyelids. “I like this young one. Just as soon as I’m done with that last boy, I’ll be ready for you men.��

Thorn pulled away and shook his head. “Half hour. No more!��

A half hour later Thorn was back and his men still waited. “Come on. There’s a whorehouse on the edge of town. My treat.��

“Closed,�� Red said. “All the girls are sick.��

The bartender moved from the other end of the bar. “Seems like they ain’t ready to leave,�� he said, as he walked around the bar toward Thorn.

“They hired on to do a job!�� Thorn said. “Come on boys.��

Red and Art started for the door. “Hold on men,�� the bartender said. “I’ll buy you a drink while you wait. The only one needs to go is this young fellar right here.�� He grabbed Thorn by the back of the arm and squeezed hard as he pushed him toward the door.

Thorn jerked away. “I don’t want any trouble.��

“It’s all right,�� Red said. “You don’t wanna do that.��

The bartender grabbed Thorn’s wrist and forced his arm behind his back. “I tried to do it the nice way.�� The big man lifted on the arm until Thorn’s feet left the floor, his bent elbow and shoulder carrying all his weight. Just this way, the bartender had helped many drunken cowboys from the saloon to the muddy street.

Art shook his head. “You don’t wanna do that.��

Red, his face full of concern, stepped toward to the bartender. “It’s okay. We’re all going.��

Thorn twisted, first one way and then the other, but the big man held on and lifted him even higher. Once high enough, Thorn jerked his head back, catching the big man’s nose. Blood sprayed. At the same time, Thorn kicked his legs higher than his head, then slammed them forward and down to the floor, throwing the big man over his shoulder and onto a nearby table. Splintered wood scattered around the room as the big man hit the floor and lay on his back.

As he followed Red and Art from the saloon, Thorn turned and tossed a gold eagle toward the big man, laying dazed and bleeding on the floor. “For the table.��

***

After Thorn left them, his men sat on dirty beds in the small run-down hotel room they shared. “Thorn’s too damn serious,�� Red said.

“Yes sir,�� Art replied, “but he sure ‘nough handled that big galoot.��

Red bent over and laughed until he coughed. “Didn’t know what hit ‘im. The ol�� Colonel taught that boy well.��

“Shoulda taught him a man’s gotta have a woman ‘for he goes on the trail.��

“Shoulda. And shoulda taught him a man needs a drink on the trail. Bet he never even thought of that.��

“Go to sleep.��

�Ԩ��.��

Two hours later, the rhythmic sound of bed springs creaking and bed posts bouncing, on the floor above, woke Red. He shook his partner. Art sputtered and opened his eyes. “What the hell?��

Red held a finger to his lips. “Shhhhh. We’re gonna get whiskey for the trail.��

“Go to sleep! Everything’s closed. ‘Sides we promised we’d stay put.��

“He won’t even know we left and I ain’t goin�� without a couple of bottles. Come on,�� Red said, slipping into his pants. “Leave your boots off, ‘til we get outside.��

A few minutes later, Red tried the back door of the saloon. “Damn it! Try that window.�� Art pressed his palms against the glass and pushed. The window moved. Red grabbed his knife and pried, first one side and then the other until there was a good-sized gap. He worked the window up with his fingers.

“Git in there and open the door.��

“Why me?��

“You’re smaller. I can’t fit.��

Soon, the two men crept through the back of the saloon. Red scratched a match with his thumbnail and they tiptoed to the main hall, behind the bar. Red stretched up onto his toes, pulled three bottles of whiskey from the top-shelf, and passed them to Art. “That’s enough,�� Art said, almost too quiet to hear.

Giddy, Red struggled to hold his laughter. “One more.��

“Who’s up?�� the barkeep shouted from the second-floor. “Eileen?��

Red grabbed one more bottle, and they rushed out the back-door.

posted by Wyatt Cochrane on December, 03