In the valley behind them, a column of nasty grey smoke rose from what had once upon a time been
a fine homestead. The leather in their saddles creaked in time to the soft clips and clops of the
horses hooves, plodding down a trail they knew
The longer the silence between them continued, the harder it seemed to break. His father was a quiet man at the wildest times, and he expected
the same courtesy from others- no one more than his own son.
Connor knew this, and kept his own counsel as
best he could, but there were so many questions in his mind this morning, and he had so few answers. But finally...
"Dad?" Clip. clop.
"Yeah?...". Clip. clop. Clip. clop.
"I gotta pee".
His father's horse stopped with a twitch, and Connor reined in the mare. When he glanced
over at his father, the silence hung between
them like a shroud.