Boar Guts and Horse Sense
The boar’s heart, still beating, hopped like a legless frog in the Texas heat.
I was a long way from Manhattan.
Dean wiped boar blood on his Wranglers, sheathed the knife. Squinted at me.
You just lost or are you looking for something?
Good question. Wish I had a good answer. Fresh out of those since the divorce, the foreclosure, the bankruptcy. I’d wanted to die but only made it as far as Texas.
I told Dean my troubles and got no sympathy. By his cowboy calculus, I hadn’t lost anything of value. He accounted me a man in full – as long as I could stay in the saddle.
We mounted. Redlight skittered and stamped, his nostrils flaring with the smell of the boar’s still-warm blood and my cold sweat.
You only have to know you’re a horseman. As long as you know the way home, your horse’ll get you there.
I spurred Redlight and was on my way.
About the author
After graduating from Columbia University with an MFA in Film Direction and winning the Academy Award for Best Student Film, Mark spent many years…Read the full bio
Issue 18 · June 2013
Table of contents
- From the editors
- Postcard Prose
- Travel Notes