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TITLE: The Trip | Previous Challenge Entry
By Mary Foster
05/30/07
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The Trip

“What are we gonna do Chet?”
“We’re going to walk as far as we can and trust that Dad will know what we’re doing.”
“What if Dad just thinks we’re gong against what he said?”
Chet was quiet for a moment, “Well,” he said slowly. “I guess we better pray he doesn’t think that.” He looked into his little brother’s eyes, saw the fear there and sought to reassure him.
He laughed, “You always wanted to be a cowboy. Let’s say we’re on our way home from a cattle drive. We got attacked by Comanche’s and we’re working our way home with little or nothing to eat.”
The ten year old looked up at his brother, his eyes lighting up at the thought of being a real cowboy. “What would we do next?”
“I guess we better get a couple miles behind us while we think of a place to spend the night. Where do you think Pa will start looking?”
“I think he’ll start at the park gate.” Pete said nothing about his brother calling their Dad, Pa. He looked over at the horse, “Will Blaze be able to walk that far?”
“I still can’t believe he turned lame, but he should be okay.” Chet stood looking south, “There’s a place south of here. It had a lot of grass, trees and a fire pit. We might not get there by tonight though.” He glanced at Pete, “Want to go for it?”
“You bet!” Pete motioned his brother to lead. “Know any cowboy stories?”
“I remember a few tall tales Uncle Sam used to tell us.”

“Chet,?” Pete spoke up after awhile.
“Yeah.”
“I’m hungry.”
“We should probably wait awhile.” He stopped to look up at the sky. Clouds building to the west usually means rain, Chet thought. Better think of a way to shelter. “Here,” he handed Pete three pieces of gum. “Chew one and add another when the flavor is gone. It’ll help with the hunger pangs.”
“Hey, and we can pretend it’s chawin tabaka.” Pete drawled the words out making Chet laugh.
“Okay, but no spitting.”
After another hour walking the boys decided to stop for the night. Looked around and realized they stood near a meadow with a stream running nearby and a cliff with a low overhang that would be a good shelter from the wind and rain.
The boys worked together gathering pine boughs for a bed, dry wood for a fire and setting up the tarp from their bedroll as a windbreak. They pulled enough grass so Blaze would have plenty to eat where they tied him.
“Chet, how did you know to cut the pine for our bed and cut grass for Blaze?”
“Remember all those books Grandpa Smith has? The westerns?”
“Yeah, you spent so much time reading them while we were there that Mamma got onto you.” he laughed.
Chet laughed at Pete’s response. “You would remember that.” He nudged his brother. “I learned a lot reading those books.”
“Gosh, maybe I need to read them. But it’s so boring. I’d rather be outside.”
“Grandpa’s books aren’t boring. They’re adventures and on rainy days or hot summer days when you have to be inside they’re perfect for getting your mind off how bored you are.” He made a face and Pete laughed. “Let’s fix some supper.”

Chet!” Pete’s panicked voice woke his older brother from a sound sleep. Sitting up Chet saw Pete’s pale frightened face in the predawn light. Then he heard sounds of something moving through the brush down the trail. Grabbing what they could the two slipped between the rocks and up the slope of the mountain to the ledge they had scouted yesterday.
Sitting quietly they listened as several horses neared the camp. Blaze nickered from his picket line near the stream. A voice from the trail brought smiles to the boy’s faces. They scrambled down the slope as quickly as they’d ascended. “Dad,” Pete’s voice was jubilant.
Chester Smith Sr. dismounted quickly and took his youngest son’s flying body into his arms. “Boy, you’re late.” He teased. Looking over at his eldest he said, “Bout time for breakfast don’t you think?”
“That sounds good Pa.”
“Pa?” their father questioned. The boys looked at each other and started laughing. They laughed so hard their sides were hurting and they had to sit down. Finally gasping for breath Chet answered,
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, get to talking, boy. I’ve got plenty of time.”

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