He rode in from the north side, turning neither left nor right, staying pretty much to the center of the dusty road.  It was close to two-fifteen in the afternoon.  Except for the horse he was riding, he looked like any other horseman passing through Kane, Wyoming on a Thursday.  This sorrel horse, however,  was a little better than most; stood a little taller, moved with a certain grace that was unmistakable.

On his left sat  a small, white church with a cedar rail hitching post on two sides, there being one in the rear where the parson lived.   Next to it, but set back from the road, was a one-room schoolhouse built close to the church so that it could be used both as a classroom and a church room.  Farther down the street on the right was the Kronstom Hotel.  It  sat across the street next to the State Bank.  Both of these buildings were next to the pool hall and the Burlington Rail Road Depot.

All of these matters of city planning were seen by the horseman as he rode into the settlement.

In the distance the younger school children were playing “kick the can”  between the church and school.  Out in front,  three of the older boys were sitting on the rail fence that separated street from school and kept the school fenced in.  They were arguing, bantering back and forth, as the horseman approached.  No one remembered the man.  He hadn’t been seen before, so they jawed back and forth about who he was, who he wasn’t, and who he might be.  One claimed to have seen the horse before, but it was agreed that no one knew the rider, then,that no one knew the horse either.

One ventured that it could be that Jess fellow folks talked about, that no one had seen recently, except maybe Fred the hostler.    But they all agreed that that fellow was dead for sure; that he’d been shot and crawled off somewhere, hid himself and died a lonely death.

The “kick the can” gang swirled around them, under the fence, to the edge of the street and back under the fence.  Left in its wake was a red-headed six year old who also saw the horse, the rider.  Only he didn’t step back.  He stepped forward.  One step, two, three, then he was out in the middle of the dirt road.

The boy on the end yelled a warning.  All three jumped down and tried to reach him, but they were too late the heroes.  A hand reached down from the blue April sky and pulled him up, placing him deftly on the shoulders of the saddle.   The boy leaned back, wrapping the open sheep skin around himself until only his red hair showed.  The long Sorrel horse never missed a step; never stopped, never hesitated, never even slowed.  They’d be home in another hour and school was out.  He’d been rescued.  This was the best day of his life.  No more “kick the can,” no more books and ledgers and “where’s your home work.”

“Lou, how long are you gonna be?”   The twenty year old woman spoke from the doorway, glancing first at her son.

“Not long.   Hard to see.  But we’re gettin’ her done.”

“Why don’t you put Red up in that tree?  Let him hold the lantern.  Maybe that’d help.”

Lou turned and looked at Red then back at his brother.

“Good idea, sis.  Bring me that lantern.”

“Want to help, boy?”

“Ok,” the boy said.  “I do.”

Lou picked Red up, all four years of him, then studied the old tree.  “Now, Red, I’m gonna put you up on that limb.   Once you’re up there I want you to straddle it.  One leg on each side so you don’t fall out.  Hear?”

“Ok.  I mean yes.”

Lou smiled.  “Ok, you mean yes, do you?”   He lifted the boy high enough so he could crawl on to the alligatored bark of the branch then get a leg on either side.  Lou stared up at him.  “You all right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Not gonna fall out?”

“No, sir.”

“See that you don’t.”

Red nodded, brushing the hair from his eyes so that he could see his uncle.  His mother was standing behind him with a green lantern.   Lou turned to her, taking the lantern by the handle.  “Thanks, sis,” he said before turning his attention to the boy in the tree.

“Now Red, I’m going to hand you this lantern.  Take it by the handle and set it on the branch in front of you.  That way you won’t have to hold it.  Understand?”

“I do, Uncle Lou.”

“Ok.  Here you go. Grab that handle.”

Red took the handle, lifted the lantern and set it on the branch in front of him.  A gust of wind rattled the yellow leaves overhead.   He could hear the coyotes across the river howling among themselves, running along the shelves of limestone rock, hiding in sagebrush and juniper.

“Don’t burn yourself,” Lou said to him.  “I’ll have to whoop you good, you do.”   The boy knew his uncle was teasing him, knew he wouldn’t lay a hand on him.   Not in anger. From the tree limb he watched as Lou turned his head to look at Jess.  Jess had a skinning knife in hand and was studying the carcass of the steer.

“That light better?” Lou asked.

“Much,” Jess answered.   “At least we can see.”   Pausing, Jess looked at the boy.  “You all right, Red?”

“I am, Uncle Jess.”

“Good.  Now don’t let the owl grab you and fly away with you.  Might be tomorrow before we can find you.  Course you’d be the only boy flyin’ around with an owl and holdin’ a lantern.  So it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“No owl’s gonna get me, Uncle Jess.”

“No?   All right, then.”   He turned to his brother, pointing at the carcass with his knife.   “Lou, I think we’ll saw off three or four steaks.   Have Pearl fry them up.”  Jess looked up at the boy.  “You want some steak, boy?”

“I do.”

“Figured you might.  What’ll you do with it?”

“I’d eat it.  That’s what.”

Lou laughed.   “Hard work holdin’ that lantern in the middle of the night.  Keepin’ that owl company.  Makes a boy hungry.”

Jess was looking at the steer again.  “This’n is a nice one, Lou.  Plenty of fat.  Got good size.  Probably a January calf.  It’s been a good year for grass.”

“Think they’ll miss him?”

“Could be.   Sure’s a hell of a way to get child support.”

Lou laughed,  “There’s easier ways but none as tasty.  Be a nice change from venison.”

Jess said, “You help me get the rest of this hide off him.  But first I’ll cut some steak.”

“All right.”

Both men worked steadily, from time to time looking up at Red holding the lamp in his perch in the Cottonwood tree.    Half an hour later they finished skinning the steer.

“How you holdin’ out, Red?”  Lou said.

“Ok.”

“Just Ok?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You hungry?

“Yes, Sir.  I am.”

“Well hand me that lantern.  I’ll lift you down and you can run inside and get your Ma to give you some biscuits, gravy, and a hunk of meat.  How’s that sound?”

“That sounds fine.”

Lou took the lantern from the boy and set it on the ground.  Then he lifted Red from the limb, standing him on his feet.  “Run inside, Red.  Go on.”

But the boy stood and watched his uncles.   He watched Jess spread the green hide on the ground and he watched both men look for rocks, stacking them in the center of the fresh hide.   Forty pounds later Lou wrapped the hide around the stack of rocks and tied it.   With the hide in hand he walked to the edge of the river bank and gave it a toss into the swirling current. When he returned Jess was drying his hands on the ends of a ragged towel.  Both men looked at the carcass hanging in the tree.

“Reckon that’ll last a while.”   Lou said.

“Ought to, if we can keep the coyotes away from it.”

“We’d better hang it a little higher if we expect to have any left come mornin’.  Then we can finish cuttin’ him up. ”

Jess glanced at his taller sibling.  “I don’t know about you, little brother, but my belly is thinkin’ someone done cut my throat.  Let’s eat first.”

Both looked at Red standing silently watching them.  “What you doin’?”  Lou asked.   “Thought I told you to go inside.”

“Nothin.’”

“Well nothin’, let’s get to eatin’.   What do you say?”

“Ok.”   Red said.  His mother watched him from the  door.

The moon had climbed above the canyon and caught the edge of a floating cloud.   The shadows were shorter, dimmer.   The north bench was darker.   The moon didn’t appear so big now.  Just a normal, average moon, a witness to a family of river rats stocking up for the winter,  living at the river’s edge in a two room shack on the north side of Sheep Canyon.