Walker...

A short tale of a cowboy named Walker.

It was late in the night and the sound of wolves echoed through the cool air. The moon was full and lit the arid, vacant desert. Small critters roamed among the cacti and shrubs that littered the rocky terrain. Rattlesnakes and vultures stalked their prey by the cover of night...

Walker sat on his horse, overseeing the vast land below the cliff he stood upon. Nothing, but the out lines of the mountains far on the other side, was visible. As he stood out in the cool night, his past came before him. Memories of the town where he once resided. How the saloon was always filled with laughter and music from a piano. The smell of whiskey was intense like the poker games he played. The sound of the locomotives pulling into the station with passengers from the east coast cities rung in his ears...

The duster suit Walker wore was covered in dirt from riding on the paths through the desert. He removed his faded, worn hat that covered his greasy, shoulder length hair. His silver spurs chimed as he started setting up camp. Walker made a circle with stones he had kept in his satchel. The few twigs and scarce grass near him was placed in the middle of the ring of stones. Walker pulled a small bottle of liquor and poured a little on the pile of twigs and grass. Then he pulled out a match and struck it on one of the stones and lit the pile of twigs. Before laying down near the fire, he reached into his pocket and looked at the picture of a beautiful woman in a blue dress. She had blue eyes and long dark hair. Walker kissed it and replaced it into his shirt pocket and laid his head down...

The bright, hot sun shined on Walker's face as he slept in the early morning. His eyes blinked slowly open, and he looked around. The fire was out, his trusty steed a little ways away munching on what little grass was available, and the sun now starting to peek its head over the far mountain. He watched it rise; its pink, peach, and orange colors ran across the dark blue sky.