\u201cFrank, Brian is moving more of them.\u201d Arlo stopped mid-chew when he heard the familiar sound. He abandoned lunch and moved closer to the ridgeline.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhere do you think he\u2019s taking them?\u201d Barry asked, though it was barely coherent through his mouthful of food.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Frank said nothing, chewing his lunch slowly. The entire crew turned to him\u2014it was the habitual response\u2014but nothing in Frank\u2019s expression told them what he was thinking. Arlo was the first to look away from him and back to Brian.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDon\u2019t know,\u201d Bob chimed in. \u201cDon\u2019t care. I say farewell and ado and see ya later!\u201d His large lips smacked obnoxiously after he took another bite.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBut we won\u2019t see them later.\u201d Arlo raised his head a little higher to see over the ridge to the bottom of the hill turning golden with the onset of the cooler weather. He especially liked the smell of it up on this ridge. Arlo watched for a few minutes as Brian loaded the trailer. The smell of the grass turned rancid in his large nostrils. \u201cThat\u2019s why we care.\u201d Arlo\u2019s voice languished but it made Saul jump. Silence had taken over the group and Arlo\u2019s voice, regardless of its hushed tone, had broken it abruptly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOkay, boys,\u201d Frank said, walking over to join Arlo. The cooler air made his breath visible as it rushed from his nostrils. Frank felt the responsibility heavily some days. He surveyed the land from their lunch spot. He always enjoyed this view. \u201cI think it\u2019s time. Brian\u2019s got to go.\u201d His voice was steady and calm, just like it always was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Arlo swung his head to look at him, his eyes even bigger than usual. Frank met them with his own dark brown eyes. The pair were a mirror image of each other except for Frank\u2019s larger, more muscular stature. It commanded respect. Frank held Arlo\u2019s gaze, only interrupting it with a slow blink.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Arlo backed away from the edge no longer able to watch the scene below. \u201cMoo,\u201d he acquiesced. He tore the grass nearest to his feet and chewed, but he didn\u2019t taste it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Another moo rose up from the herd. Then another rose to join it, again and again, until all of them melded into a chorus.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Brian looked over his shoulder. It wasn\u2019t like the cows to carry on that way. The rancher shook his shoulders to get rid of the chill that had settled in, somehow piercing his rugged work coat. Their song stopped all at once. Brian looked up. The sky was blue, but a storm was rolling in from the west over the hill. His biggest bull stared at him from the top of it. A chill ran down Brian\u2019s spine. He laughed it off as he shoved the last cow into the trailer. He needed to get to the slaughterhouse before the weather came in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFrank, Brian is moving more of them.\u201d Arlo stopped mid-chew when he heard the familiar sound. He abandoned lunch and moved closer to the ridgeline. \u201cWhere do you think he\u2019s taking them?\u201d Barry asked, though it was barely coherent through his mouthful of food. Frank said nothing, chewing his lunch slowly. The entire crew … Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2121","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pa867U-yd","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2121","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2121"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2121\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2123,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2121\/revisions\/2123"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2121"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2121"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2121"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
L.C. Hill spends every waking minute writing, thinking about writing, reading about writing, writing in her car via voice memo, writing in her head and forgetting the brilliant thing she just wrote in her head because she didn\u2019t write it down, and writing down brilliant things that she later can\u2019t read because her handwriting is terrible. She lives in Denver, Colorado with her American Bulldog, Ernest Hemingway.
She is a board member for the Literacy Coalition of Colorado and the content editor for their newsletter and social media.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"