Join the new world

Yeah. I'm coming back.

As I rode off into the sunset, only a mere three weeks ago, I found myself wandering the great West and saving simple folk from roving bandits and wild wolves. Also found the time to talk to a few native tribes and learn a bit or two about myself and the universe around me.

Yesterday, during the evening hours, I was basking in a near empty saloon somewhere in Utah. Enjoying one of my favorites, a glass of Don Pedro, my heart began to yearn for the simple life of working and training my body for the service of eUSA glory.

"Those are days past, son." said the tall, gangling bartender with whom I was sharing a delightful conversation with since the sun disappeared over the small town that happened to be located in eNowheresville. Yet, his words continued to bathe my longings with a sense of uncertainty. In fact, his wordplay seemed to stumble and stagger around like a few of the drunks he might throw out of his bar on a daily basis.

He wasn't a very good bartender.

Leaving the saloon, I spent a long walk back to my hotel room. The Sheriff was out late, attending to a small fight just across the dust covered street. By the looks of things, no one was hurt and no weapons were drawn.. but the poor guy was in distress. Never did figure out why he was ready to blow his horn, but then again, it was never my business.

Back at my room, having tried to sleep for an hour, the unsavory feel of being a dirty mess was itching away at my patience. "Time for a shave.", I said, clearly to no one else in the room, while I prepared the lather and sharpened my blade. For every hair cut on my chin, there was another thought that popped into my head about the home and people I left behind.

As I cleaned up, and tended to the seemingly endless nicks and cuts, there was a sudden knock at my door. "At this time of hour?", I thought.. but was just as puzzled as how I never heard anyone walking down the hotel's hallway. Those wooden boards creaked more than the crickets did outside.

When I opened the door, I saw an old friend, and the explanation why there were light, if barely any, foot step sounds resonating from her. With an expression on my face that could be mixed with both the good and the bad, I'm pretty sure it was ugly when I had invited her in.

The conversation that followed lead me to believe.. that there's no way that I may be able to sit by, idle and stagnant, and let the future of my country, and patriots, be doubted without a hand that's held fast in times of pressure and doubt.

Get back on the saddle, cowboy.


~ B. Holt