That tow head bobbed and Asa made a note to find an old hat to cover the man’s scalp up before that new skin blistered again.
He walked on out past the lean-to, stretching, his head falling back so the sun could fall on his face. Asa willed Loco and Tak to come on, not to lose their courage. He needed what they could give him.
Soon the horses were singing to him, telling him that they were coming, and he smelled them, the spice and heat familiar as breathing.
Happy Sunday, beauties!