A sedate river of shaggy, horned beasts lumbered across the huge plain in my path. Snorting and lowing, their numbers stretched from the horizon on my right to as far as I could see on the left. Pressed together horns to tails, alternating between eating and walking. A cool wind blew them before it, sending them wherever they could find warmth.
I stood upon the single rise in this flat land, watching them pass below, noting how frost clung to brown curls. My own breath blew out white as I took a seat, resigned to waiting. No way could I pass through that herd in safety. At once, cold began seeping from the frozen ground into my bones.
Once I had built the weakest fire from withered prairie grass, I hunched over to shield the tiny flame from the ever-present wind, warming my chilled hands. When the ground shook beneath me, I looked up, surprised to find close by a young bison regarding me. Warm breath huffed into my face.
“The sun falls,” lowed the creature. “You will freeze to death soon.”
When I unclenched my teeth to speak, my jaw hurt from trying not to let them chatter. “I’m just waiting for you all to pass and I’ll be moving again.”
Turning its shaggy head to regard the passing herd, which showed no sign of abating, the bison said, “We will not pass soon enough. We’re not going the same way, but you can ride along with me for warmth.
I, too, gazed out at the herd, silhouetted black against the fading sunset, pondering the decision. Soon, though, I nodded and clambered up onto the beast’s back, snuggling into its thick woolly fur as it lumbered onward. Better detoured than dead.
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For over 100 years, Texas High Plains Writers has been a part of great storytelling in Texas and beyond.
This year, our anthology offers a collection of short-stories, memoirs, inspirational essays, and poetry filled with hope.
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Great heroes of legends past sit side by side in these pages with the unsung citizens showing kindness to strangers. Humor, adventure, and nostalgia combine to remind us all that hope can be found anywhere.
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