Sheep Dogs (chapter 1)

And God,

Please let the deer

On the highway

Get some kind of heaven.

Something with tall soft grass

And sweet reunion.

Let the moths in porch lights

Go some place

With a thousand suns,

That tastes like sugar

And get swallowed whole.

May the mice

In oil and glue

Have forever dry, warm fur

And full bellies.

If I am killed

For simply living, 

Let death be kinder

Than man.

-Althena Davis

One

Elias

         Elias was a simple man. He never bothered nobody, and nobody bothered him. At the age of twenty-eight, people began to wonder about him, why he never took a wife, why his life was spent all alone. The truth was, Elias preferred it that way. He was a shepherd who lived deep in the Rocky Mountains of Wyoming, far away from society. He had a little plot of land, enough for his small cabin, a barn for his horse, a corral, shelter, and a small pasture for his sheep. He rarely went to town, but when he did, it was for his monthly grocery run. He would ride his horse down the mountain early in the morning and into town. He would fill the saddlebags and pile as many items as he could to avoid another trip to town. Then he would ride back up the mountain where his sheep were waiting and being guarded by his three dogs, Lucky, Hank, and Rufus. 

         Despite what most people thought of him, Elias was not unkind. He simply preferred companionship with his dogs, sheep, and horse. 

         Elias liked to read. Every month, he would get a new book to read along with his groceries. His dogs kept watch over the sheep and would growl if they suspected a threat. Elias kept a shotgun with him to fend off coyotes and keep the sheep safe.

         He never took the sheep more than three miles from his cabin. The forest service didn't allow camping outside designated areas, so each morning Elias would let the sheep out of the corrals, and each night he would bring them back in. 

         It was late afternoon when it started to rain; at first it was a slow sprinkle, but before long the rain began to pour. For the last hour, Elias had been trying to herd his sheep into their pen. When at last he had gotten them settled, he put his horse in the small barn and rushed into his cabin. He was soaked to the bone and chilled just as much. He took a towel from the closet, dried himself, and got into a dry change of clothes. Then he went back outside to the porch, where he could smell the rain and stay dry at the same time. He sat in his chair and lit a cigarette, breathing in and exhaling in a huff of exhausted smoke. 

         After a while, he drifted off to sleep to the sound of the pouring rain. About an hour later, he was awoken by the sound of barking, but there seemed to be more than three distinctive dogs barking. Elias quickly grabbed his shotgun, thinking it was coyotes, but it was dark now, and he couldn't see much through the rain. He held his gun at the ready, his eyes scanning for threats. Then from the darkness came a voice.

  “Whoa there! Don't shoot! My name is Beau Westley, and I’ve got a flock of sheep with me. We’re a bit lost. I wonder if we could take shelter with you until we find our way?”

  “Your sheep branded?” Elias asked in return.

  “Yes, sir, every one of ‘em,” Beau replied with a smile.

  “Good, mine aren't. We’ll be able to tell ‘em apart.”

  “Thank you kindly, sir.”

          Elias wasn't partial to getting in the rain again, but he went out to help the stranger get his sheep under shelter, along with his horse and two dogs, which had been the source of the barking earlier.

         Elias led Beau to the cabin and lit the fireplace once inside. He offered the stranger some dry clothes since they were roughly the same size, and brewed them a warm pot of coffee. 

         Elias studied the other man. Beau had sandy blond hair that darkened near the roots, and his emerald green eyes seemed to stand out against his pale skin. Across his nose was freckled from years working in the sun, and his eyelashes were dark and long. If Elias were to use a word to describe him, he would say he was generally handsome, but only to let the poor man keep his dignity. The truth was, “handsome” was not the word Elias would have used. The words that came to mind were more along the lines of “pretty”, but not pretty in the same way girls or flowers are pretty. More like when the sun peeks through a break in dark storm clouds and makes the mountainside glow with a thousand different greens.

            Beau sat on the floor next to the glowing fire, poking it with the iron rod. He didn't pay much attention to Elias on the sofa behind him; he was too focused on warming up. 

  “Where ya’ from?” Beau finally broke the silence. A shame, really. Elias was enjoying the quiet.

  “Here.” He replied plainly.

  “You stay here alone?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “How come?” Beau was gettin’ too close to things Elias didn't want to answer.

  “I don’t like talkin’ to people. Havin’ someone around would force me to talk.” Elias replied. He wanted to turn the subject away from himself. “Where you from?”

  “Kansas,” replied Beau.

  “What are you doin’ here then?”

  “I don’t like Kansas.”

  “And why not?” Elias had never been to Kansas, had no idea what it was like, but he was curious why Beau disliked the place.

  “I was bored out of my mind,” Beau answered. “It's all just flat and brown. Came here when my pa passed.”

  “I see, sorry to hear that.”

          Neither of them spoke after that. Beau enjoyed the fire, and Elias sat down to read his book. After some time, Elias got up and offered Beau the sofa to sleep on and went to his room to sleep himself.