Chapter 23

What happens ... every time ... when a nubile young attractive girl slides into bed with a man? Yeah ... and don’t try and tell me you didn’t ... I know better ... unless you’re 75 and nearly blind.

But ... there are a few words that can make the obvious indication shrink, like... “If that thing touches me ... I have a sharp knife ... and I’m not afraid to use it.” Or... “I thought they were bigger.” Or... “Isn’t that supposed to get hard? It is?” and then giggles ... or belly laughs.

All she said was, “I need my sleep and my bed doesn’t smell right.” She rolled over ... taking the covers ... and my pillow.

I thought about it for a millisecond, climbed out and headed for my tipi. Thanks to the flic of my Bic ... I had sufficient heat. I watched the flames dance on the side of the lodge for a second and the owl landed on a pole and said “Who?”

“Good Morning.”

“Who?”

I added a few sticks to the coals, snuggled under the buffalo and watched the sun come up.

It was quiet. The black night sky turned Navy, purple, magenta, red, orange, yellow and the sliver of sun chased away the sliver of moon and the birds started that warning racket.

“This is mine ... stay away.”

“Don’t come any closer.”

“You’re in my personal space ... get out ... get out ... get out.”

The pole bent and snapped straight ... the owl was gone.

“Who?” He ... or she ... asked as it flew away.

The geese made a racket as they lifted off the creek ... circled for a moment ... aligned themselves and honked. Away south they flew ... heralding the approach of winter.

The sky turned blue ... the last bit of the sun freed itself from the grasp of the eastern hills and sprang into the sky. Daylight was upon us.

The door slammed.

“Hairy?” The back of the Van opened and shut. “Hairy?” The door on the bunk opened ... closed...”Hairy?” The crunch of feet on the frosted grass.

A scratch on the cover.

“Hairy?”

“Come in Karen.”

The door lifted the inside liner door split apart ... Karen, with my quilt wrapped around her ... in bare feet.

She sat beside me and turned her feet to the fire.

“Why did you leave?”

“Which time?”

Ah ... the meat of the matter.

She blinked, got her ducks in a row and said, “When you went to Denver.”

“You grew up.”

“Why did you come back?”

“I grew up.”

“Oh.” She shivered.

“I’m cold.”

I put my arm around her. She leaned against my shoulder.

“Don’t go away again.”

“No, ma’am.”

We sat like that ... two people ... but one person ... watching the morning break and the day begin.