He put too much feed in the horse trough. He’d forgotten to collect the hens’ eggs until their cackling reminded him. He left open the gate to the pigpen after the slaughter and wasted ten minutes rounding up a wayward hog. The sun was already setting beyond the western peaks. They should be sitting down to supper by now. What was keeping Tory? He took the roast off the fire but had no intention of eating, despite how delicious it smelled. From the window, he saw Wicasha making his way along the field. Relief buoyed Franklin. He dashed outside to meet him. “Wicasha, I’m glad you’re here. Stay by the homestead, will you? I need to ride out to Spiketrout.” “This time of day? It’ll be dark soon. What’s going on?” “Tory went into town to deliver a letter. He should’ve gotten back by now.” Franklin did not like the lines that creased the Lakota’s face. Wicasha had made a handful of trips into Moonlight Gulch since mid-March, and he had regained most of the weight he’d lost over winter, thanks to Tory’s cooking, but his face still sagged with skin.
What do You think about On The Trail To Moonlight Gulch?
