The sun had disappeared from the sky, the moon was out, and stars were beginning to appear in the dark blanket stretched out where the blue sky had once been. The weather was mild, not too hot and not too cold.
Pan poured himself another cup of coffee and rested his back against his saddle. "Beautiful night," he said, More to himself than to Rich, but Rich nodded his agreement anyway.
"The kind of night that just makes you happy to be alive. The kind of night when you just feel lucky to be out here sleeping under the stars. The kind of¾"
"The kind of night that could be spoiled by too much talking," Rich interrupted.
"Point taken," Pan said over the rim of his coffee cup.
Rich stretched out on his bedroll and folded his hands behind his head. "It is a beautiful night though. It'd be perfect if Gloria was here."
"My friend, nothing is perfect with Gloria nearby."
"Hey!"
"I'm not saying she's a bad person, but you've got to admit she's got a talent for seeing things the wrong way."
"Well…"
"And, under no circumstances, will her cooking improve anything."
"You may be right there."
Pan nodded, and took another sip of coffee.
And then there was silence, a companionable silence, not an awkward one. The moon looked down on the two ranchers and shone as brightly as he could. For the moment, there was peace. The war seemed too far away to be real. There was no report of guns, no deep and dark trenches, no flattened, raped land where grenades had landed. All was quiet. All was good. All was entirely beautiful.
As if reading each other's minds, Pan and Rich looked up at the sky, Pan with his hands wrapped around his tin coffee cup, Rich with his hands folded behind his head, and said in unison "Nothing too good for a cowboy."