Tiffany Blue

No sense in reporting it to the law, I figured. If the sheriff couldn’t keep them off my land and away from my mine what was the point. Besides that, the sheriff, he was Mexican. I had a hard enough time keeping his type off my land let alone the Indian. Between the land grants and the reservations, it was amazing that the white man had any land to call his own in this god forsaken country.




That evening, as I was fixing my supper on the fire, I became aware of a noise. It was faint, almost like the sound of distant thunder, but with the fire crackling and the stew bubbling, I didn’t think anything of it. I continued about my business.

I ate some rabbit stew. Updated and reviewed the ledger. Wrote a letter to the Tiffany Company in New York about the mine’s current prospects and the beauty of the Tiffany Blue stone above all forms of turquoise. Wrote a letter to the Governor too, concerning the trouble the Indians been causing. I added a couple bills to the latter note, so that it attracted the attention it rightly deserved.

When I finally got around to laying down for some sleep, it occurred to me that the noise could still be heard. It was louder now and more distinct. It was the beating of a drum, slow and steady. More importantly, it was coming from the direction of my mine.

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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)