Tohelluride©

Free Online Short Love Story

Written by American Author Sky Taylor

"I thank the fire’s finally out," Virgil drawled in a western twang, his beady dark eyes scoring over the charred, still-smoking field of what had been sun-ripened wheat only thirty minutes ago.  

His large gloved hands were riddled with burn holes, smoke towering from the burned areas resembling smoke floating out of a warm mouth on a cold winter’s day.  

He extracted the straw hat which had experienced massive damage from the fire and gingerly beat it against the gloves in an attempt to stamp out any smoldering embers.  

His boss Matt chose to remove his entirely, tossing it to the ground, but it did nothing to douse his frustration.  

Frustration? It was a heckova lot more than that. The wheat crop was toast and without a crop, he didn’t have a chance in Texas of making good on his bank loan.   

Goodbye ranch, he silently mocked, resisting the desire to jump up and down on his smoldering cowboy hat with his smoldering boots.  

With effort, he turned to Virgil and asked, "Exactly - how did this happen?" although it really didn’t matter now.  

"I told ya the whole story as we wuz stomping out the fire," Virgil reminded with a lazy drawl, plopping his hat back onto his bald head, Matt taking note of the cowboy’s singed eyebrows.  

Matt knitted his lips tightly together in frustration. "Hard to hear over a raging ring of fire, don’t you think?" he challenged, his tone a mocking one.  

"Alright, alright, I’ll tell it AGAIN," Virgil emphasized, his leathered face knotting into a tight ball, reminding Matt of an apple head doll.  

Then he released a pent-up sigh and eased out, "Tramp started the fire."  

Matt delivered another mocking glance and challenged, "You’re telling me that a dog is responsible for this-this catastrophe?"  

"Yes, for the second time, YES!" Virgil mocked, sitting on the ground so he could remove his smoldering boots. As he landed with a thud his face gnarled tighter-still. "Charred leather," he mocked, holding one up for his impatient boss’s inspection.  

After considering that impatient gaze, he decided to continue with, "Actually, wasn’t all my dog’s fault. Poor Tramp gets blamed for everything. Large shoulders, that dog. Lots of burdens to bear. Poor thang."  

He paused while Matt continued to shoot daggers at him before easing out in a painfully slow drawl, "Actually, it’s my wife’s fault."  

"Juanita’s?" Matt asked, finding difficulty in restraining his sudden desire to strangle the facts out of his lackadaisical foreman.  

"Uh huh. She fed the leftover enchiladas from supper to Tramp last night. Why that dog’s had the," he paused, making motions like a trotting horse before adding, "all day."   

"Virgil, would you get to the meat of the matter before I lose every ounce of what little patience I have left?" Matt encouraged in an impatient tone.  

Virgil shrugged his skinny set of shoulders and continued, "Tramp decided to follow me to the wheat crop as I was getting ready to do the harvesting."  

"And?"  

"Well, he squatted right in the middle of the field, did his business, then started scootin’ his….er….backside on the ground and ‘fore I knew what was happenin’, sparks flew from the ground as he was a-scootin’ and that’s how the fire started. Those there sparks ignited the wheat," Virgil told him, Matt’s face mirroring disillusionment. "Fore I knew what wuz a-happenin’, the wind enveloped the crop. In fact, we better find the little fellow and examine his backside for damage," Virgil went on to suggest and then he began bellowing the dog’s name.  

Tramp eventually slouched into the area, carefully approaching as he whined, seeming very hesitant to put in a full blown appearance.   "Awe, look at the little fella," Virgil eased out. "He’s all traumatized."  

Matt watched in astonishment as Tramp eased slowly past him and made his way to his master, the dog’s behind looking like a blown-out shotgun with all the iron peeled back from the barrel - just a large hole remaining in back surrounded by a ring of frayed fur.  

He narrowed his dark eyes and eased out, "Well, I guess if there’s any good news associated with this disaster, it’s that Tramp doesn’t appear to be too damaged. Even so, I think it would be wise to take him with me today for a check at the vet. He doesn’t look burned, but there does appear to be some delicate areas that may require treatment."  

"I’d really appreciate that," Virgil echoed, deciding to check-out his dog’s backside. Never hurts to have a second opinion. "Yep, you’re right. Nothing looks too pinkish."  

Then he suddenly blurted out, "Good Lord this dog stanks! Phew - like a smokin’ hot tamale."  

"Enchilada," Matt corrected, his mouth quirking on one side. "Virgil, nothing more to be done today. Go home and be with Juanita and enjoy the rest of the day and evening. Get some rest. I’ll drop Tramp off at your place when I get back. And I‘ll ask Doc McVey if he can clean up Tramp and give him an examination when I take him in."   

"Sounds like a flawless plan to me."  

"You’re okay? No trouble breathing? No smoke damage…other than the eyebrows and gear?" Matt asked, wanting to be sure that he had covered all disasters before he left the ranch. Visiting the bank wasn’t going to be a tea party.  

"Nah, I’m fine. Eyebrows feel like a Brillo pad," he sniggered as he reached up to inspect them. Then, "Hey, you’re not mad at me are ya? I mean, Tramp couldn’t help himself. And he never takes his ta-ta where the crops are rooted, ya know that. Ya ain’t sorry ya hired me, are ya? It was just a freak accident," Virgil tried to reason.  

"Yes, just a freak accident," Matt mocked as he imagined his ranch sailing straight down the creek without a paddle.  

So many dreams. He had arrived a short year ago, settling into the crumbling house that his grandfather had left to him at his passing. So much work had been poured into the house - as well as the crops, and now it vaguely resembled its former appearance - this diamond in the rough.   

Unfortunately, he had made the repairs as well as the rather large addition to the house, going on to finance his wheat crop by making a bank loan using the house and property as collateral.   

The lump sum was due in two months - which would have been no issue if the crop hadn’t sizzled to the ground. In fact, he would have made enough to pay off the loan as well as to finance his winter crops. Forget that!  

"At least we saved the ranch house," Virgil eased out, petting Tramp’s singed coat.  

"We did at that, but it was sure close," Matt echoed, wondering now why they had worked so hard to do such. Well, at least the bank would benefit.  

Then to Virgil, "And no, I’m not mad at you. And yes, I’m still glad that I hired you."  

An hour later, Matt had showered, collected Tramp and had arrived in town.   

Extracting Tramp from the truck seat, he started walking to the vet’s office which wasn’t far from the bank.  

Hot day, he noted as he walked along. Summer was hotter than normal and the winds had been brisk today, fueling the destruction of the wheat crop. And Tramp didn’t smell none too sweet, the heat not helping matters he decided as he carried the dog extended slightly from his chest as he walked along.  

Doctor McVey was at the front desk when Matt entered the make-shift waiting room. McVey typically dealt with bovine, equine, ovine and swine. Not a whole lot of dogs in the area, but way too many cats - a farmer‘s delight for keeping rats under control.  

Doctor McVey’s deep blue eyes went from Matt’s face to Tramp’s backside, widening in the process.  

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