Wildhorse Gorge – Part 3 of 5

Stick cinched Em’s saddle strap, scratched his chin, and surveyed the camp.  He’d bedded down here enough times to almost call it home.  Three boulders half as big as boxcars marked the property in a triangle, and a clump of junipers huddled by the one nearest the creek provided just enough shade to make life tolerable when the sun was overhead.  It was plenty dusty, especially when evening wind picked up off the desert, and tumbleweeds often showed up uninvited, but Stick took a moment to remind himself that this particular spot afforded a mighty nice view.