Fled-A Western Tale

Long were the hours that stretched into days as he hurled himself
across the desolate plains that reached for the dying sun. His only
companero's were the sweat on his forehead and the 4 legged beasts
in their yokes heaving for every breath. Some said he was running
from the law and some said from a bitter love. Whatever the reasons,
they must be as thick as the cloud of dust he was leaving behind
him, for the speed he pursued was certainly past good judgment
and without any respect for the barren & treacherous land.

The night laid siege to his mental stability as the wolf would
croon and the weed would bend the pitch of the wind. The
vegetation offered little resistance to the biting cold and his
dreams were filled with torment. Relief came not too soon
as the sun peaked into the tangerine sky. The crackling fire
brewed a sludge we could not dare consider to be coffee.
A polished spur would make due for reflecting his resemblance
as he pulled out his deer bone buck knife to scrape away the shadow
that had crept upon his face during the restless night.
This day would be longer than before as he measured the
supplies to the days ahead: A two pound bag of oats, some
dried venison, a little bit of honey, and some coffee beans.
Ready to meet the day he dosed the coals with kicked up
dirt. He rubbed the backs of the beasts empathizing that they
too knew what it was to carry a load. He thought to himself that
their shoulders could take the weight more then his heart could,
but then again, guilt is in the eye of the unforgiven. He climbed
back onto the device of his liberation and cracked the reigns with
a fervor he would have to maintain through the day. A couple notes
slipped past his tongue and around his teeth that old familiar
melody of "ol' Susanna don't you cry for me" fought through.
A song in his heart and an eternal dessert view to swallow him in.
"Giddy up!" he commanded with a shout and the fierce cloud
of their wake began to pile up into the turquoise sky.