Chapter Six: Big Trouble From The Littlest Indian

For the last two hours, Slim has been tracking the Indian pony's trail.  He would not rest until the bandit is brought to justice. The pony’s tracks cut through a thicket on the edge of Palmer’s pond.  Everyone knows this is the best spot around for catching toads. Slim hops down from his paint and reads the signs. He also spies a couple of toads, no time for that today a thief is afoot.
 
It is a bold, reckless lad that will take from the Twisted X. This brazen outlaw-bellied up to the kitchen window, Slim imagines the outlaw, tall and thin, with a shadow of a beard, close-set beady eyes, topped off with a dusty old black hat ragged and torn, with a matching bandana.
 
Wondering on who or the why wouldn’t help him catch the bandit. He mounts Pacos, and in no time the trail led around the bend to his favorite watering hole. The tracks stop at the weeping willow. The grass is pressed as if the bandit had bedded down for a rest. Did this outlaw not know our boy Slim is on his trail? He looks over the area and sees two chicken legs! Mom ma’s fried chicken legs! Chicken legs that should have been Slims good lunch! The Indian pony tracks trotted on, and Slim follows.
 
A fresh dusting on the path told Slim that he is closing in. The tracks lead to a field of clover. Then up a rocky ridge. He follows the hombre to the edge of the Indian Nation. The landscaping changes from green and growing to sparse and rocky. Tumbleweed and larkspurs now in bloom line the way. Slim takes to foot and leads Pacos up the steep hill. Pacos verbalizes his protest, but the two of them press on.
 
The bandit must be close, He can sense it. His eyes peel in every direction. His mindset to the task at hand. He thought back about that morning about mom’s pie cooling in the window and drinking every drop of her sweet tea seeping on the front porch for his super. Slim had been smelling her handy work all day. From the fried chicken to the coconut cream pie He would not rest till the basket bandit is subdue, and Slim's rumbling alarm avenged.
 
He trots over thistle and sage. He maneuvers around cactus, and boulders. He is close enough to hear the pony’s tail dusting off his backside. Slim wraps the reins around a sage bush drops his hat to his shoulders as he eases up to the clearing ready to confront this lawless drifter.
 
He calms his hands and made ready his steps. Justice is a corner away. Only to find the basket-stealing bandit picnicking by the lakeside, asleep on his ponies blanket. A blanket I might add the same height as he. This villain is sporting one little Indian feather around his head and mothers meringue as a mustache. “Come on Joe,” Slim bellows “Mom is mad, and we got get back home. Little brothers yuk, who needs’m.”
 

Author's Note

any comments are welcome

Reviews

[Charles D. Moorer]

You had me until the very end. The end is anticlimatic. Given the careful tracking and great lengths that slim goes to to retrieve the food, I was expecting something else, I am not sure what, but not what I got.