“You only have one, Pa. You never tell us the details of your peculiar journey.”
He stared at me with a quizzical expression.
“I reckon whatever details you’re expectin’ already exist in your imagination.”
Then he’d stand and smile and walk away, leaving us to wonder if his tale held a bit of truth. ’Tis little surprise the nugget that fell from our father’s hand came to define Brother’s destiny, and mine.
* * *
Brother grew up bigger, stronger, and more handsome—but impetuous, and now prone to petulance and fits of delusion since the death of our parents. I was older by a moment, yet he ignored my better judgment, claiming we were equals, which we were not. It’s a mystery how men of the same flesh turn out so different. Still, I stayed close, for he was all I had left.
* * *
“Hold onto that rock and keep it safe on our journey, Marcus.”
“Of what odyssey do you speak?”
“We’re headin’ west to claim the rest of the gold that’s rightfully ours.”
“’Tis foolish to believe Pa’s silly prattle, Brother.”
“More foolish not to.”
I resisted his folly, but eventually conceded when he promised to respect my sensibilities and share whatever came our way. That I could abide, and leaving our sorrows behind seemed a reasonable thing to do.
* * *
Our town offered little more than the pink and white tailings of a dusty potash quarry. Travelers had but one reason to pass through. A remarkable monument stood at the outskirts, its green bell tintinnabulating in the belfry of a red-shingled whorehouse. The profane peal drowned the voice of the Lord that chimed once a week from the church at the opposite end of town. The bordello had no formal name. An ornately painted sign hung above the lintel, proclaiming what all wandering men feared most. This Be Your Last Chance for a Damn Good Time.
* * *
In search of said rainbow and gold, Little Brother (with great exuberance) and I (with little optimism) mounted our horses and set out for Edgers City, a day’s ride due south, where we’d procure dry goods and comestibles for our journey through the desert and beyond. We rented a room at a roadhouse and boarded our horses at the nearby smithy’s stable. At six postmeridian, we headed for The Pilgrim Saloon that sat at the end of a dry-rotted boardwalk running the length of town.
Well written fable. Thoughtful ideas about man search for things of lesser value that hide more important issues. Do we suffer little deaths while searching for the unattainable? What should we be doing instead? What is living all about? Thoroughly enjoyable and thoughtful read.
Beautifully written