The Bitter Draw: From the Front Porch – Chapter 5
From the Front Porch series: Thorne Wilder & Brogo Mann
Brogo sat with his coffee balanced on one knee.
The sunrise hadn't reached the porch yet. The fields beyond the fence were silver with dew and a thin fog sat low in the hollows.
"You ever notice," Brogo said, "how trouble starts small?"
Thorne Wilder rocked his chair back against the wall.
"Usually starts with somebody sayin', 'This probably ain't important.'"
Brogo nodded.
"Then what?"
"Then folks start diggin' graves."
Neither man spoke for a minute.
A mockingbird landed on the rail.
Looked around.
Decided the company wasn't worth the effort and flew off.
Thorne watched it go.
"That satchel was trouble the second I picked it up."
Brogo took a sip.
"I figured that."
"You tell me?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Brogo looked out over the pasture.
"Some men only learn by carryin' the thing."
Thorne sighed.
"That's annoyingly wise."
The corner of Brogo's mouth moved almost enough to become a smile.
"Been accused of worse."
Morning in that country arrived cold.
The kind of cold that made saddle leather stiff and fingers clumsy.
They rode east with the sun climbing at their backs and the satchel tied behind Thorne's saddle.
Neither man liked looking at it.
Neither man liked not looking at it.
The papers inside had changed shape overnight.
Yesterday they'd been documents.
Today they were questions.
Questions tended to be heavier.
The trail wound through cedar breaks and open grassland where the wind had room to think. Pronghorn watched from distant rises. Once they spotted a herd of wild horses moving across a valley floor, manes catching sunlight like river water.
Brogo watched them until they disappeared.
"Free," he said.
"Till winter."
"Still free."
Thorne considered that.
"Fair."
They rode another mile before Brogo pointed with two fingers.
"Riders."
Thorne followed the gesture.
Four black dots sat against a ridgeline nearly a mile away.
Watching.
Not hiding.
Just watching.
One of them raised an arm.
The others turned their horses.
Together they vanished behind the ridge.
The silence they left behind felt worse than if they'd fired a shot.
Thorne shifted in his saddle.
"Well."
"Yep."
"You know who they were?"
"Nope."
"You think we'll see them again?"
Brogo glanced toward the empty ridge.
"Yep."
Brew what we brew on the porch
Readers get 20% off when joining the Coffee Club at Camano Island Coffee Roasters.
We may earn a commission. It keeps the coffee hot and the stories honest.
From Around the MTDLN Media Group: We tested the gear that’s heating up winter, literally.