The Trading Post and Other Frontier Stories by Michael Zimmer

Author:Michael Zimmer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gale, Cengage Learning
Published: 2018-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Greg Hunt is a seasoned western and frontier fiction writer, with over twenty novels in print. This is his first frontier short story.

A SMALL THING BY MATTHEW P. MAYO

I ladled more venison stew into Uncle Drift’s bowl. It was peppery and the smell tickled my nose. He nudged his spoon with a big knuckle but did not tuck in. No matter how hungry he is, he waits for me. Drift Macallam ain’t one to forget his manners. He also ain’t one to use the word ain’t. But I am.

Thomas Dettweiler, he’s the first one I heard use that word, right after Bible class, then he got clouted on the left ear by his mama. Times like those I am satisfied with my lot. No surly mother to clout me, only Uncle Drift to keep me in line. And as long as I don’t shirk my tasks, as he puts it, I have little to complain about. I still complain, but that’s the way it is with me.

I sat down and picked up my spoon. I should have got a mouthful in, but I made the mistake of peeking over at Uncle Drift. And he was peeking right back at me. Well, not peeking so much as looking at me. Uncle Drift, he doesn’t peek. He looks. Those big, twitchy-bird eyebrows of his twitched and he didn’t have to say a thing.

I set down my spoon and put my hands together. “Thank you, Lord, for this food.”

Uncle Drift sat with his head bowed, didn’t put his hands together, though. He never does. Finally, he reached for his spoon. “That was brief.”

“Yep,” I said. Because it was. I thought he’d like it, seeing as how he doesn’t talk much himself.

“You spend enough time with the Dettweilers, I thought you’d stretch it out some.” He tasted the stew, nodded his fondness for it as he pulled in air to cool his mouthful.

“They are a prayerful bunch,” I said, knowing he would nod without looking at me.

I always make certain to serve supper hot as I can make it. Uncle Drift likes it that way. Me, I don’t much care. I eat mostly to get it over with. I am forever behaving like that, rushing through a thing to get to the next thing, or else back to a book. I am fond of reading, can’t seem to help it. Like picking at a scab on your knee, you just have to.

Last week Uncle Drift borrowed a hefty book for me from his boss, Mister Linsmore. It’s called Constantine Xavier’s History of the Known World. Seems big-headed to put your name in the title. Mostly the book confuses me, but I will give it a good going-through, then give it another, in case I missed something important on the first pass.

Sometimes Uncle Drift will say, “Having you around is like having a squirrel loose in the house.” But he smiles when he says it. Every so often he will also say, “Watching you makes me tired.

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