The first snow fell and passed and Tom lived off his smoked deer meat and smoked trout. It seemed all day and night the coldness encaged him; it was the first winter since Tom rode broncs. His first winter back in the old ways. His days mixed together, each feeling the same as the last. Until finally the snow began to melt away and spring was making its return.
The first night all the snow had disappeared, he sang the deer song. Next day he went hunting and killed a doe. He skinned if for leather and took meat to eat and smoke. He used everything he could then threw the rest away. He ate and drank, then rested down by the fire in his lodge. Even though winter's snow was gone, it's coldness still clung to the air.
Days passed, and then weeks and spring was in full bloom. With it came a shortage of supplies. Tom needed more ammunition for his rifle, as well as some clothe for new clothes lighter than leather. Taking smoked meat from a deer he killed a few days before, he packed up for the trip to Pagosa.
Wearily the first then second day passed, both filled with aching pain and sores. Finally, he made it to Pagosa and headed straight for Thatcher's store. He walked in and looked around, the store hadn't changed; only no one was there. Suddenly, a woman walked in and went behind the counter.
"Sorry 'bout that. Anything I can do for you, Sir?" She wore a loose flannel shirt with the sleeves torn off and tight-fitting jeans. She pulled a piece of mid-forearm length brown hair behind her ear as she waited for his answer.
"Where's Jim?" Tom asked as he placed tan textile on the counter along with a box of bullets and four baskets.
"Dead," she answered, "Died just last winter, at his age he couldn't handle the cold and just crooked over. I'm Kelly, his daughter. When I heard he died I moved in from Colorado to watch over my ma." She explained, figuring how much cloth to give and cutting it. She took the baskets and stared at Tom with a confused look. "Say, don't I know you from somewhere? Yeah, now I remember! You're Killer Tom Black. I saw you in the rodeo a while back- when I still lived in Colorado."
Tom just grabbed this new things and stated, "I'm not Tom Black… I'm not the man you are talking about…" His voice trailed off as he packed away his belongings.
"No, it has to be you! I saw your picture in the newspaper. Besides, who can forget a face like yours?" She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the counter, crocking her head slightly.
"What do you mean by that," Tom scolded, throwing his pack onto his back and turning to leave the store. He didn't even wait for an answer and just left the store, Kelly running after him.
"Hey wait! I didn't mean any harm; you just got a handsome face. And if I might add, the scars are very becoming!" She yelled to his back as he ignored her and continued to walk down the street. She grunted under her breath and ran to Tom's side as he neared the edge of Pagosa.
"If you're not Killer Tom Black, than who are you? If you don't mind my asking…" Tom paused as he tried to think of an answer. Too many feelings and memories flashed awake inside his head until he finally settled on an answer.
"I don't know who I am." He told Kelly as he looked at her for a moment, and then walked again. Kelly froze, no longing having the need to follow this man. The look he gave her emitted a look from a person that had felt pain and suffering their whole life. Something in those eyes scared her, and yet pulled her in.
The first night all the snow had disappeared, he sang the deer song. Next day he went hunting and killed a doe. He skinned if for leather and took meat to eat and smoke. He used everything he could then threw the rest away. He ate and drank, then rested down by the fire in his lodge. Even though winter's snow was gone, it's coldness still clung to the air.
Days passed, and then weeks and spring was in full bloom. With it came a shortage of supplies. Tom needed more ammunition for his rifle, as well as some clothe for new clothes lighter than leather. Taking smoked meat from a deer he killed a few days before, he packed up for the trip to Pagosa.
Wearily the first then second day passed, both filled with aching pain and sores. Finally, he made it to Pagosa and headed straight for Thatcher's store. He walked in and looked around, the store hadn't changed; only no one was there. Suddenly, a woman walked in and went behind the counter.
"Sorry 'bout that. Anything I can do for you, Sir?" She wore a loose flannel shirt with the sleeves torn off and tight-fitting jeans. She pulled a piece of mid-forearm length brown hair behind her ear as she waited for his answer.
"Where's Jim?" Tom asked as he placed tan textile on the counter along with a box of bullets and four baskets.
"Dead," she answered, "Died just last winter, at his age he couldn't handle the cold and just crooked over. I'm Kelly, his daughter. When I heard he died I moved in from Colorado to watch over my ma." She explained, figuring how much cloth to give and cutting it. She took the baskets and stared at Tom with a confused look. "Say, don't I know you from somewhere? Yeah, now I remember! You're Killer Tom Black. I saw you in the rodeo a while back- when I still lived in Colorado."
Tom just grabbed this new things and stated, "I'm not Tom Black… I'm not the man you are talking about…" His voice trailed off as he packed away his belongings.
"No, it has to be you! I saw your picture in the newspaper. Besides, who can forget a face like yours?" She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the counter, crocking her head slightly.
"What do you mean by that," Tom scolded, throwing his pack onto his back and turning to leave the store. He didn't even wait for an answer and just left the store, Kelly running after him.
"Hey wait! I didn't mean any harm; you just got a handsome face. And if I might add, the scars are very becoming!" She yelled to his back as he ignored her and continued to walk down the street. She grunted under her breath and ran to Tom's side as he neared the edge of Pagosa.
"If you're not Killer Tom Black, than who are you? If you don't mind my asking…" Tom paused as he tried to think of an answer. Too many feelings and memories flashed awake inside his head until he finally settled on an answer.
"I don't know who I am." He told Kelly as he looked at her for a moment, and then walked again. Kelly froze, no longing having the need to follow this man. The look he gave her emitted a look from a person that had felt pain and suffering their whole life. Something in those eyes scared her, and yet pulled her in.