Inspired by Cold Road by Stan Rogers
Nancie McCormish
Hidebound
“Not stopping this time?” “Nope.” Sarge short steps on the slippery slope, weighing another winter sliding in. “Cold hands, cold heart?” “Lookin fer my gloves, nothin’ more.” Cold sun pierces the fleeing storm, teasing its grey tail. “Thought you was aiming to fix that cross fence this year?” The little claybank mare leads, remembering, but pretending not to. Feels the change approaching overhead. “Nothin’ to keep away now. Thought you knew to mind yer own worries. Fresh hell…”
“Yea? Well that gift graced me with life, or do you mean to misremember that, too?” Both horses stall, breathing stilled. The mare stares at pepperdot rabbit scat underfoot, expecting an explosion. “I ain’t forgot, boy. Just wish-to, most days.” The mare exhales a smallish, warm cloud, watches it follow the hawk. “Then why’re you ridin’ her mare, and give me Sarge?” The grey’s ears flip back, radaring the rising storm, but he doesn’t adjust course. “Sarge will mind after you. He’s proved out. You ain’t.” The horses eye each other sideways.
Wisps of wind gently ruffle tracks and tails.
“Father, I’m grown! Look at me, willya?”
“This ain’t just my worry. We’ll both be missing her, probly forever, right enough.”
The old man turns away and spits, loading before firing again.
“Cain’t miss what never belonged to ya, son. Grace wuz always just a gift.”
“No need. Face that launched a thousand buffalo chips, right? She learn you that from them damn books, too?”
Soft swoosh of snow under hooves, muffled by a rising tailwind. Overhead a hungry hawk circles the horsemen, sizes them up, vanishes downwind.
Howl of tailwind cuts the space between them as a blue-sky eye clears the clouds for just a blink. Winter bellies closer in.
26 | EKPHRASIS 2022
