Death comes for us all, sooner or later.

The Noose!

It wasn’t my horse. I knew that when I took it. There must have been twenty of them out in that field, mine had died two days ago, and hauling this saddle was getting harder and harder.

“Go West,” they all said. “There is land to farm and gold to find.” What they didn’t tell you is that it was hard, dry, and hot! I had been chewing on a piece of leather from that same heavy saddle for three days to keep my mind off the fact that we had run out of water. I lasted longer than my horse did.

Now there were better than twenty of them in front of me. They must be getting water somewhere, and they didn't spook or run away when I approached them. They were used to people. I picked an old nag. I didn’t have the energy to chase around a younger stallion or the strength to get thrown off one.

She never even moved as I slipped the bridle over her head and placed my saddle on her back, but I was just thankful, maybe I could get off my feet for a few hours and find some water.

A few hours later we wandered into a town. Not much to look at but at least there was a saloon and I could get a drink. I wasn’t thinking about much else. Tied the horse up out front and wandered in hoping to knock some of this dust out of my throat.