Mount III: The Adventures Continue by Arlen Blumhagen

Author:Arlen Blumhagen [Blumhagen, Arlen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Western
Publisher: Untreed Reads
Published: 2017-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

Before the top crescent of the sun had cleared the eastern horizon, we was packed up, loaded up, saddled up, and headed out across the prairie. It was a spectacular sunrise with the whole of the eastern sky ablaze. Soon after the purdy sky-paintin’ faded and a pale, washed-out blue surrounded the glarin’ summer sun; it got hellishly hot, and proceeded to warm up from there. By midafternoon it had to’ve been well over a hundred degrees. We all hid, best we could, under our hat brims, and we drank as much water as we dared.

Zhang and Andy rode side by side up front. Chester rode next all by his own lonesome, followed by Sandra and me. As long as the landscape let us, Sandra and me rode close enough to hold hands and steal a kiss now and again.

As we made our way across the prairie, Chester O’Bannon was very seldom silent. He never talked to any of us, but he never shut up neither; most of the time he simply mumbled to himself. Now and then he’d break into song. One of his favorites was an Irish independence tune.

A nation once again,

A nation once again.

And Ireland, long a province, be

A nation once again.

Sometimes it’d be the English Hymn, “Come, Ye Thankful People, Come.”

Come, ye thankful people, come,

Raise the song of harvest home;

All is safely gathered in,

Ere the winter storms begin.

God, our Maker, doth provide

For our wants to be supplied;

Come to God’s own temple, come,

Raise the song of harvest home.

Or maybe he’d belt out a rousin’ rendition of “Ole Bull and Old Dan Tucker.”

Then, when his singin’ was done, he’d just go back to mumblin’ to himself for a few more miles. Then it’d be time for another tune and he’d burst into song. The songs would’ve been a welcome break except that Chester’s singin’ voice was only a little better than mine, which made it horrible.

Andy questioned Zhang about O’Bannon.

“I don’t understand, Li,” Andy asked. “Why would you hire a man who’s obviously retarded?”

“Oh, no.” Zhang shook his head. “Stum…I mean Chester, definitely is not retarded. He is undeniably slow on the uptake at times, depending on the subject matter, and his communication skills are certainly substandard at the very best, but at the same time he is extremely knowledgeable about certain subjects.” An embarrassed look passed across Zhang’s face. “And besides, he’s usually a very good rifleman.”

“Luckily he missed this time.”

“Yes,” Zhang answered, although I ain’t real sure how sincere he was. “Very fortunate indeed.” He then turned around in his saddle and called out to the beaver-faced man ridin’ the spotted Appaloosa. “Chester, who do you believe will win the presidential election this coming November?”

Chester was ridin’, as usual, with his head down and mumblin’ some nonsense. After Zhang’s question his posture never changed a bit. He still rode starin’ at his saddle; the only thing that changed was his voice. It rose so we all could hear him clearly, and the speech he gave had Andy, Sandra, and me starin’ at each other, open-mouthed with wonder and surprise.

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