That night a terrible hail storm swept across the valley floor raining down hail the size of doorknobs. The travelers took shelter under an overpass. The noise of the hail striking the ground and echoing under the overpass sent Don Pablo’s monkey, Guzelda over the edge. She climbed up into the overpass and would not come down until Don Pablo promised her a cigar. She loves cigars, and sometimes there is nothing that will calm a monkey faster than letting `em light-up a Cuban seed cigar. Since they were stuck under a steel overpass in a hail storm their satellite reception was pretty poor. Dad said they couldn’t watch the PBR finals and were sorry they missed “Windtwister” and “Total Darkness” toss n’ and turnin’. Not that they don’t like the cowboys that ride `em, its just that the three of them are partial to flying bull.
Dad text'd me one more note. He wrote that a curious thing occurred during the storm. Phone Home became very still and didn't move, or even blink an eye for a solid hour. Then he started pawing the ground in a rhythmic pattern like he was sending out Morse code. Then he stopped and starting making noise for food.
In the morning a red sun spilled sideways across the horizon like a pail of red paint flowing across the desert floor. The clouds hung low in the sky and resisted the upwards advance of the sun with all of their weight like some dark Sumo squatting over his opponent. Yep, it was a regular Cormac McCarthy sunrise.
The hail was melting into the ground as they set out toward Mesilla. By ten o’clock a wind had kicked up pushing away whatever lingering clouds remained from the night before. The sky cleared but the wind would not abate as they pulled into Billy Bonnie’s Ashram, Yoga Retreat, and Gun Cleaning Service later that day.
Yours in ernest, Emmett
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