A Meal Divided

“You enjoy that meal?”
“Sure did Barrett, thanks.”
“My wife packed that meal for us.”
“Oh…" Abe's eyes glanced over, but his head didn't move, "sure was nice of her.”

Barrett was riding a few feet ahead. He turned over his shoulder, looked at Abe and said, “Yes, it was.”

The two men rode through the brush on horseback. The pace was slow and the occasional rustle of grass could be heard as the horses made their way.

“Why we going off the trail anyway Barr-”
“Abe,” Barrett said with more force than he intended, “Abe, you remember a couple winters ago, when that fox kept breaking into my barn?”
“Oh shoot, yeah!” Abe had a laugh that sounded like a wobbly piece of sheet metal, “I ‘member we set up so many damn traps for that thing, you nearly stepped in one yourself. Couldn’t even set foot in that barn for fear of being clenched in the ankle.”
Barrett stared ahead straight faced, “Yeah, never did catch that fox.” He mumbled.
Abe looked over at the back of Barrett’s head and his smile faded. He thought for a minute, then stared down at the reigns in his hands.

The sky was a dusty overcast grey. Bushes and weeds littered the landscape with a tree every now and then that painfully crawled out of the ground. They came upon a small clearing and Barrett suddenly stopped his horse. He stepped down onto the ground as Abe watched. His left hand gripped the reins with white knuckles, and his right hung centered from his belt strap. His whole body was rigid as he looked off into the horizon with unfocused eyes. Dark bags rested under his sockets from the nights of sleep lost over what he was about to do.

A gust of wind blew and the bush swayed in the waves of the air.
“Barrett, I just…” Abe’s voice lost steam and trailed off as he shifted in his saddle.
“There’s no point Abe, I know what you done.”

A sudden calm grew and Barrett squinted towards a dark smudge in the distance.
“What is that?” He muttered, more to himself than to Abe.
He flicked the nails of his fingers up the scruff on his cheek. Smoke seemed to be billowing out of the ashy stump of a tree. Barrett started to lead his horse towards the stump while Abe slowly followed on horseback.

When they reached the stump and saw the other side, an old Indian man lay smoking a long pipe. He took a deep pull, glanced at Abe, then turned to Barrett and grinned. Smoke leaked out of the cracks between his teeth, twisting in streams up the front of his face. He leaned back and exhaled, a cloud of dark grey rising from his mouth.

“What the hell’s an injun man doing all the way out here?”

Barrett rested his hand on his revolver just in case. It shone pale silver in the light of the overcast sky, having been carefully greased the night before.

The man wore the old furs of some grey fox or wolf. The hide was oily and tattered. Patches of fur had altogether fallen out in various places. The man looked like some diseased animal, slumped against the stump of a tree to rot.

“Y’all right there fellow?” Abe asked, a bit withdrawn.

He looked up towards the clouds and coughed out a slow chuckle. He leaned back, hands crossed, patiently waiting, as if he had come for a show.

Barrett was watching him out of the sides of his eyes, not wanting to look him dead on.

“Come on Abe” He sighed, “Let’s go.”