2005-05-31 - 8:53 a.m.
Where the road comes down out of the woods and levels, transitioning from dirt to smooth tar and stone, I heard a distant whispering from the trees that didn’t register at first as my name. Listening, I heard it twice more and let the bike coast silently beneath me as I looked back, trying to see behind the barn.
At last I heard it again, clearly, and seeing Norb emerge from behind the barn, I circled back, meeting him on the dirt path halfway.
“Bernard,” he said, pausing to catch a breath. “Did you see a horse?” He held a black fiber bucket with one hand and a short length of blue rope with the other.
“No, I haven’t,” I said.
“That darn thing.” He shot a hopeful glance up the way I had just come. “Jason bought a fencer the other day that doesn’t have zap to say so. I went to fix it, thinking it might have a bad ground, and when I turned back around that darn horse was gone.” He looked again towards the trees on the hill. “He was right here a minute ago. I thought maybe he might’ve gone into the woods.”
“Well, he’ll come back soon as he realizes there isn’t any grass up there.”
Norb laughed a little at that and I turned to go.
“Keep a lookout,” he called after me, “if you would.”
*******
A half mile later, I saw a tan horse with a white face being led by a man on the other side of the road.
“You lose a horse?” he asked, smiling, as I pedaled up.
“Nope, but I know somebody who did. Norb’s looking for him now.”
The man began to laugh then, taking short gulping breaths that sounded like wheezing. And I thought as I passed: Good fences make good neighbors, maybe. But good neighbors are good neighbors—period.
