We drove into the desert campsite, just about midday. Then read the sorry sign that said, “The Creek a mile away.”
Ten gallons every day would be a thirsty horse’s style. We had to find some water that was closer than a mile.
We love our mountain water, yet we pay it never mind. But here the desert water is a gold mine of its kind.
We asked the Anhders brothers if they’d find a water source. They shoveled down a sandwich, then each climbed up on their horse.
“It’s water, boys, we’re needing. These old ponies wanna drink. We can even dig a hole down if you find a water sink.”
The brothers turned and set the horses at an easy lope. Then whirled and came back running. Was it too danged soon to hope?
I heard one say, “There’s water just a hundred yards away. A water trough for cattle, this could be our lucky day.”
We led the thirsty horses over to the water tank. And I watched with guilty conscience as the water level sank.
The horses tanked the water down. We should have stopped to think. One cowboy said, “We’re stealin’. We could end up in the clink!”
We ain’t the brightest fellows. Would the rancher make a noise? Do cowboys have an honor code? “We’ll blame the Anhders boys.”
Kenny was the youngest. We said, “You’re looking mighty pale. You really needn’t worry. We’ll come visit you in jail.”
The night air found us ’round the fire. A water truck drove in. The driver stepped on out and he was tall and lizard thin.
I’d seen his look a thousand times. Just itchin’ for a fight. So, we offered him some steak and spuds with hopes to make things right.
He gobbled down the taters, then his scowl turned to a smile. He said, “I’ll bring you water if you’ll feed me for a while.”
It sounded like a deal to me, sure got us off the hook. The Anhders boys were smiling. Kenny lost his panicked look.
And when I start to think about the doggone water trough. I reckon we were lucky, didn’t get our butts shot off.
