Presents for One and All
. . .
Cobb sent the horse
forward at a walk now, keeping his hands elevated. As he came closer, he got a
better look at the man on the wagon seat.
Cobb had already
made out the white beard that came down over the driver's chest. Now he could
see the round, red-cheeked face above it and felt the scrutiny of eyes set deep
in pits of gristle. The man watched him with a peculiar intensity, as if he
could see right into Cobb and tell what sort of hombre he was.
The man wore a
knitted red cap and a checked flannel coat. The rifle in his gnarled hands was
an old Henry. He had one foot in a high-topped black boot propped against the
wagon's brake lever.
The wagon bed was
loaded with some sort of cargo, but Cobb couldn't tell what it was because a
big piece of canvas was stretched over it and lashed down. He could see things
poking up against the canvas in places.
"That's close
enough," the driver said when Cobb was twenty feet away. "Who are
you, mister, and what are you doin' out here in the middle of a snowstorm?"
"Could ask you
the same thing," Cobb said.
"You could,
but I'm the one holdin' the rifle."
That drew a chuckle
from the big man.
Trade paperback $12.00 Kindle $2.99
Barnes & Noble
James, you have such a way of describing things I feel as if I'm right there in the midst of it all. This was a great story, and I truly did enjoy it!
ReplyDeleteCheryl