High Noon

“Yer days are numbered, boy.”  The last word drawled out to two or three syllables.

The response was calm, careful, and showed no measure of the tension he felt.  “Yep.”  He shifted on his feet, re-settling his weight with his heels ever so slightly raised within his boots, ready to spring should the need arise.  “Reckon so.”

The challenger’s eyes narrowed.  Thumbs hooked in his belt, his trigger fingers tapped alternately at his hips in a slow, even cadence that matched his voice.  “Been seein’ yew around here a lot lately.”

The younger man nodded.

“Been thinkin’ on this a spell now, and I don’t like it.  Not one bit.”  His eyes fixed on the target of his consternation, he spat from the side of his mouth.  It arced out and landed in the sun, leaving a dark, sticky line in the sand, glinting in the light.  “Yew come here outta nowheres, doing what you done, sayin’ what you said... people gonna notice.”

The younger man wasn’t sure of an appropriate response, so he nodded again, his hands shifting uneasily from his belt to his pockets and back as his challenger spoke.

“Lotta people around here mighty unhappy now, knowin’ what’s comin’ next.”

They stared at each other for a moment before the older man continued; it felt like a tirade that crept slow as a dead steer on a steep hill.

“Ah suppose... ah suppose you think what you’re doin’ is best for you.”

“Don’t see much other option.”

The older man turned his head slightly, squinting toward the horizon.  The younger man had come from that direction.  He wrinkled his nose at it.  Finally, he nodded, satisfied, and after a cursory sneer at the dust on his boots, turned back to look at the younger man.

“Safe travels, boy.  We gonna miss you in these parts.”

(1-18-12)

On Friday, my boss announced to my office that I was leaving the company.