~ Jig Of Bones ~

by

Donna H. Parker

I don’t know what I expected at Ben’s place. They did call it a sheep camp. I gazed at the good-sized camper, which sat snuggled up to the south side of a small, bare hill. Presumably that position would take advantage of whatever sunshine the Lord provided and be more sheltered from the frigid winter wind as it whistled straight down from the North Pole. A dirt road meandered right up to the towing end of the camper, and a gaggle of sheep pens and rough shelters surrounded it on the east, west, and south. No other evidence of humanity existed for as far as I could see in any direction. “This is where he lives?”

“The camper’s his full-time residence, but it’s not always in this spot. Throughout the year, they need to move the sheep to different grazing areas. When it’s time, Ollie brings his big truck, hitches on the camper, and moves Ben right with them. They have some leased land higher up. They use it for the summer camp. It’s even farther out in the middle of nowhere. Looks pretty deserted around here at the moment.”

Looked, sounded, and felt deserted. Nothing in the landscape moved except some dried prairie grass that whispered into a bleak silence as a breeze ruffled through it. I could hear nothing else beyond the small noises we and our horses were making: a shifting of hooves, a creak of leather. My own deep sigh. The whole scene felt so desolate that tears came to my eyes.

“After being out here all the time, you’d think he would cherish some contact with humans,” I said. My voice sounded small against the vast emptiness of the winter prairie.

Jo shrugged. “I guess not. Let me yell for him, in case he’s not too far away.”

She did, but got no answer. No answer and still no sign of movement from the camper or any place near it.

“I guess he hasn’t gotten back yet. I’ll leave him a note,” Jo said. She slid off Sunny, found a scrap of paper and a pencil in her saddlebag, scribbled a few words, and stuck the paper in his door.

“Okay. No sense waiting around. Let’s get on our way. My stomach is beginning to beg for those sandwiches.”

“Mine, too.”

Jo turned Sunny away. I hesitated, somehow reluctant to leave. How sad for Ben to be out working hard all day and then come back to a dark, empty living space with no warmth, physical or emotional, to welcome and comfort him.

“Coming, Constancy?”

“Yes. Sorry. I was feeling sad for Ben.”

“He chose this way of life.”

“I know, but it’s sad that he had to, or wanted to.”

“Don’t feel too sorry for him. Some people prefer living alone. Ben’s not entirely without company, you know. He has his dogs.”

“Okay,” I said. “And he has his mule and the sheep. He probably wouldn’t appreciate knowing somebody felt sorry for him.”

“Probably not. I think we need to get you home.” She gave me a speculative look. “The shortest way back is a little more challenging, but about thirty minutes less riding time than the way we came. It’s easily within Wilbur’s skills, and not beyond yours, but it’s steeper and rockier and may hurt more. On the other hand, it’s also more scenic because we get to go through one of the most amazing wonders on this ranch. I leave it up to you. Which way do you want to go?”

Shorter. Great idea! “Who can resist another amazing wonder?” I said. “But even without that, a rougher, shorter ride sounds better than a smoother, longer one. As to scenic, I haven’t yet experienced any part of this ranch that wasn’t scenic. Anyway, with or without the wonder, if it gets us back sooner, let’s go for it.”

“I think that’s a good decision.”

As we turned the horses to head home, a rider on a big, brown horse came tearing into the camp at top speed. Jo and I paused to look. She smiled. “It’s Rob,” she said. “I wonder what he’s doing out here.”

Rob, who in my short experience had never seemed pleased to see Ben.