Julie R. Neidlinger: Lone Prairie Blog

Blogathon 2006: Chapter 6.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

Sergio's Hotel looked to be the only place in town to stay the night unless he planned on law breaking to earn a bunk in the local jail. Walking down the boardwalk from the livery to the hotel made Dove realize the undercurrent at work that had been niggling at the back of his mind since he first rode up.

There were pigs and chickens wandering the streets and few things said more about a town than out of control livestock.

Something wasn't right. There was an infection festering beneath the surface and Dove knew it'd come to surface right about the time he was ready for a good rest without opinions. This was how it was for the son of a wanted man.

He'd known little rest since the showdown at Yellow Butte, that large, flat rock on the edge of the Burning Hills, his father refusing to be taken alive and Dove obliging him that, throwing down his lawman's star in the dust when it was all over. Some said it wasn't only the butte that was yellow but he knew the spin of the earth and the sharp rays of the sun, and he knew the cost of sacrificing peace for justice. Yellow had nothing to do with it, though red there was much of.

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