Imaginary Nevada: March 11, 1920


“So where in Hades have you been?” Nicholas Gorbet said, “Thought you was gonna help me with the calving?”

“What do you mean by that?” Brady returned, “I jus’ saw you a couple of days ago.”

“Must have hit your head if you think it’s been only two days. I last talked with you two weeks ago!”

Brady didn’t reply. He was too busy thinking.

“Maybe I did,” he finally said, “Hit my head – I mean.”

“Any way,” the old man continued, “You want to stay for supper? The missus’ll be happy to see you.”

“Yeah,” Brady answered, “Sure.”

“Say,” Gorbet stated, “You don’t look so well. You alright?”

“Nothing a good meal and fine company won’t cure,” Brady smiled.

After eating and helping with the dishes, Brady sat with Gorbet outside on the porch, watching the setting sun. Brady was quieter than usual.

“Think you ought to stay the night,” Gorbet suggested, “Get some sleep and another meal under your belt before you head back to Beowawe. ‘Sides, looks like you got something heavy on your mind and the rest’ll do you good.”

“I’ll take you up on your offer,” Brady replied, “Thanks, Nick.”

Later, as Brady lay in the loft of the barn, half-asleep, he heard that familiar voice — and this time it was softly singing his name.

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