The sun was in mid decline towards the west, painting the sky like gold.
Jostice leaned against the fence, sleeves rolled to his forearms, muscles aching from a hard day's work.
"Hell. In all my years I've never seen it color like that ..."
Barrot slammed the last haystack on top of the others then wiped the sweat from his forehead. He looked off towards the horizon, the gold glinting in his eyes.
"I have, once before, down in Liberty Canyon." He threw his arms over the railing, pushing his chest against the wood, resting his sore limbs. "But it was due to a flock of birds."
Jostice turned an ear, eyebrows sinking. A flash of gold light distorted his vision until he blinked it away. "Birds?"
"I've never seen nothin' like it. Their wings shimmering off the sky almost like they belonged there; felt they should never come down ..."
"Golden Eagles?"
"Too small," Barrot shook his head. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you, but I believe they were golden hawks."
Jostice felt his muscle tense and he turned to glare at the man. This conversation needs to end. He pushed himself upright then turned and was off towards the barn. "I'm going to bring the horse's in-"
"You don't believe it, do you?" Barrot laughed charmingly. "I wouldn't expect you too; them are all just tales of the great golden hawks that lived in Canyon Falls. But if it were true, they were run out as quickly as the Oganaki ... damn shame too ... that was an ugly thing we Pioneers did."
Jostice spat and pulled a tin container from his chest pocket. "The Pioneers only won that war because they infected them poor bastards. My Pappy told me the tales, the real tales, and he said it was like gazing into a nightmare; men, women, and children all wiped out by cottonpox." He shook his head disturbed. "He said their screams never left him."
Barrot grimaced, "My apologies for bringing it up ..."
Jostice popped the tin and snatched a cigarette that touched his dry lips, hanging there. Red strands, olive skin, the smell of the prairie. "Shit!" He yanked it away."
"What's the matter, no light?"
"Why? You've got one?"
"I never took into that nasty habit ... nor have I ever acquired the tongue for drink."
"You don't know what your missing." He slid the cig back in the tin, closed it, then dropped into his chest pocket.
"If that's true, why are you not sucking it down as we speak?"
Justice lip curled downward, "you're a real son-of-a-bitch you know that?"
Barrot twirled around and leaned his back on the fence. "Leslie trying to get you to quit, ain't she-"
"Not another word," he held his index up, "or you and I are going to duel right here and now."
Barrot grinned, teeth glowing in the setting sun, unstained from tar of tabacci and the sugars in liquor.
"It was, wasn't it." He lifted his chin and chuckled. "That woman seems to have a lasso around you."
A snap of Jostice's holster and his revolver was in his left hand. He lifted his right, extending three digits and two nubs.
"Don't mistake me for a cripple. I can still shoot a feather off a bird's ass while in flight ..."
Above him, a blue-feathered bird soared elegantly towards the horizon, feathers shimmering like sapphires.
Jostice lifted the barrel and closed one eye. Hitting his mark was no easy task, but he let the hammer fall and the powder ignite; a crack and the bullet was off screaming, disappearing into the golden cloak above.
He twirled his gun and drove it into its holster. "You seen that?"
"I did," Barrot nodded, eyelids draped, slightly shielding his eyes from the brightness. "A clear miss."
"I wasn't trying to kill the thing. I just knocked a feather loose, that's all. You didn't see it fall?"
"Nope ..."
Jostice whipped his coat jacket back and place his hands to his hips, standing like he was in the presence of a blind man.
"You need to think about getting yourself a pair of glasses. That feather twirled right off."
Barrot laughed mockingly, "whatever you say, Ace ..." He crossed his arm and Jostice could tell the man had more to say, that or something was on his mind. "I've been meaning to ask you something ..."
A breeze carried the words away and Jostice paid him no heed
Barrot stepped closer. "Leslie told me you haven't been sleeping right ..."
Why in the hell did she tell him that? He groaned. "I've been sleeping just fine-"
"She said you was having nightmares again. I figured if that be the case," he yanked out a bag and extended his arm, "you can drink this before bed."
"what is it?"
"Chamomile. Add honey and it'll help you relax-"
"Keep it." Jostice waved hoping he'd get the point. "I don't trust none of them native remedies, no how."
"Just take it ..."
"No!"
"Trust me. It helps. I drink it every night to help my body rejuvenate."
"And I'm sure it helps that perrty face of yours too. I appreciate the gesture," he spat, "but I'd prefer not to partake."
A speck caught his eye in the north. As it carried forward, he could make out the frame of two mighty horses, a large boy and much shorter woman, both with fiery hair, and a wagon that rattled behind.
"Look who has arrived." Jostice walked towards them. And not a moment too late.
Behind him, he heard the bag crackle as Barrot drove it into his hind pocket.
Jostice waved a hand. Leslie returned the gesture with a wink and a tilt of her hat. He didn't force the grin that marked his face.
Rynan pulled the reins and the wagon screeched to a halt.
"Looks like you're getting a handle on them-"
The large boy climbed down to the dirt, kicking up dust like an ox as he walked towards the farmhouse. Onion Faced.
"Did I say something wrong?"
Leslie boots hit the dirt next and she placed a hand on his shoulder; her touch made him feel at ease. "The boys had a disagreement ..."
"Disagreement? Over what? Them boys are as close as brothers."
"And you know as well as I know that brothers tend to disagree at times."
Jostice nodded, recalling the many swings he and Remmiron had. Too many to count on his hands, especially with two digits missing.
"Hey, Barrot." Leslie smiled and he turned bright as her red hair.
He tilted his hat, "Ma'am."
"Thanks for helping Jostice while I was gone."
"Not a bother," He said, looking at her like a sculpture. "I was thinking, if you'd both have it, I'd like to help you on the farm."
"I thought you were helping your father."
Barrot shrugged. "You know I've never been much of a church goer. And my father ... well ... you know my father; he's a difficult man. I'd like to be back helping y'all like in the olden days."
Leslie turned towards Jostice with a pleading look that he had trouble saying "no" to. He could at least make it sound like it was his decision.
"You did good today ..." Jostice said truthfully. "I don't see a problem with it, long as you don't bring me anymore of that native junk ... that and get your eyes checked."
Leslie raised an eyebrow.
Barrot laughed nervously, "It's nothing ..."
"Now help me bring whatever it is she has in the back here."
"Sure thing."
"They're pelts." Leslie pointed to the fur stacked in the hitch. "Krigun gave them to me."
Jostice walked towards the back and yanked on the first bit of hide he could find; something slipped out and twirled until it reached the ground, shimmering as the golden sun.
He leaned down and recovered it, twirling the hollow-white shaft between two fingers.
It can't be ...
"What you got there," Barrot asked, eyeing it with intrigue. Leslie was also drawn to the long vane and golden barbs. "Looks to me like a Golden Hawk feather." He laughed obnoxiously. "What're the chances?"
Jostice lip sunk like iron in a holster. "It's just a feather," he said, then tucked it into his coat. "Nothing else ... only a feather."