Buck whispered, “Dear Lord.”
Silas had seen large animals before. Moose in rut. Big draft horses. Heavy cattle. None of them looked like Nabid. He was almost unreal against the Alaskan landscape, a massive white shape in a world of dark spruce and iron sky. His shoulders rose nearly six feet. His chest was broad enough to seem architectural. Even with his horns partially filed, his head looked powerful enough to crush a gate, a truck door, a man.
But his eyes were what held Silas still.
They were not dull. They were not empty. They were bright, sharp, and terribly aware.
Nabid swung his head slowly, taking in the pasture. Fence. Barn. Men. Trucks. Trees. Distant mountains. Open sky. Space in every direction.
The driver handed Silas the paperwork. “Good luck.”
“You’re just leaving?”
“I delivered what the manifest said to deliver.”
The truck was gone in less than five minutes, rumbling back down the access road as if fleeing responsibility.
This story touched a part of me that has hurt underneath several careers and 65 years of life. I'm 71 now. My family is a long established name there. My memories of ranching, accidents, rodeo stock, flash floods and family loss are different than the way life is lived today. This story is magnificent, thank you for sharing it. And maybe there's hope for some of us humans that just need space and understanding. It's been 40 years since I became a civilian after 11 years as a
U.S. Marine. This story and that bull have more meaning than some will ever know. Thank you once again. Job well done.