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Maybe it was because they hadn’t been so exposed to the white man as much. They went about doing camp duties with efficiency and competency and laughed and joked amongst themselves.Joe was a part of this, and sometimes I saw all looking at me and I was aware I was being discussed. I knew I would never find out what was being said. They were friendly and comfortable being around me and I knew words would be shared that I was okay.Joe and I pulled into the Owen ranch just before noon. Rita came out and we were invited in. I looked about and I could see a small plot of land not far from the house on a low rise that was the cemetery. There were some new crosses visible that hadn’t faded in the weather yet. I met Rita’s mother Naomi. She was a pleasant faced woman and after she and Rita put the meal on, she sat at the opposite end of the table from John Owen.John mentioned the raid on the Pickwell ranch and apologized again. He didn’t display any animosity toward me. There was sadness in. “Ah, James. I was hoping that you were taking the night off. Haven’t you heard there’s a big storm in town? I thought a man like you would prefer to spend such dreadful weather in the company of a roaring fireplace, a good whisky, and the attentions of a bounteous bubble-headed brunette?Nightwatch found himself chuckling a bit at Midnite’s alliteration. “You’re correct. I’d much rather spend a night like this cozy with a beautiful woman, enjoying the snow outside through my penthouse windows. But then again, I could say the same thing about you.”Midnite gave herself a mock whimsical sigh. “You know the thought of cold hard cash warms me more than either a fireplace OR a good whisky. As for the woman, that’s not my style. I prefer men, and I prefer the buff fireman style. So, what are we going to do with ourselves now in the situation that we find ourselves in?”Nightwatch’s eyes narrowed. She couldn’t be thinking about fighting, could she? He knew that she could more than hold her own.
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‘I see it,’ Happy replied and he swung the boat around to enter the cut. The sky was turning a light gray and two teal whistled by over our heads. ‘What was that?’ ‘Teal. Green wings, dang we’re running a bit late.’ I said excitedly. Numchucks stood up and his tail was wagging. He looked at me and down at the shot gun still in its case then sat back down. Or maybe I told him to but he was back to pointing his nose into the fog as we made our way up into the cut. The darkness slowly, slowly trickles to light as we inched into the shallow waterway churning mud with the propeller. Which isn’t a bad thing till you hit a stump and then say your prayers. ‘Left here Happy,’ I shouted as we approached a ‘Y’ in the cut. He turned the boat in a small waterway with the boat barely at an Idle. Dodging stumps and drift logs all around. The sky above our heads was gray while the trees and shrubs and grasses all around us were still black as shadows. Numchucks jumped to his feet and his head was.

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