forsaken, forlorn and forgotten

forsaken, forlorn and forgotten

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


If I wasn't so busy with trying to get my mules to pull the wagon down across the rim surrounding the settled parts of Arizona territory I would ruminate some more on being forsaken, forlorn and forgotten.

No time to worry about the woman who left me behind just now; Apaches are on the warpath again. Wouldn't they like to get a hold of my wagon of vituals and supplies down at the bottom of the rim in Payson Arizona territory?

When I get to Payson I'll get a bath and a shave and a dousing splash of some French eau do cologne in case I meet a blonde blue eyed pioneer woman at August Doin's. I am not going to spend my time this year at Rodeo in Payson like I did last year. Last year I spent my four days in Payson at the tables gambling. A cowboy can't meet a lady over a deck of cards drawing for a flush.

Fifty one weeks a year I follow my six mules as they pull my wagon of supplies for the pioneer households from Phoenix to Nogales. My mules and I dodge Apaches, dust storms and landslides day in and day out for fifty one weeks a year. Every day my mules and I take our lives in our hands to bring necessaries to the pioneer families of the Arizona desert. Someday when the territory is civilized maybe our sacrifices will be appreciated. Meanwhile I'll settle for some good beer, a fine hand of Poker, and a lovely Lady once a year at the August doin's right dead downtown main street in Payson, Arizona territory.

Tomorrow I should be in Payson. I'll find me a special gal and spend a month's pay on her.

Meanwhile if I wasn't so busy with trying to get my mules to pull the wagon down across the rim surrounding the settled parts of Arizona territory I would ruminate some more on being forsaken, forlorn and forgotten.