The Hunt
(Written September 20, 1988) We were in a house trailer just outside the Lindreth trading post, in northwest New Mexico. There were six of us on the hunt that year: My Dad and I; Morris - Dad's best friend, and his son Brad; Don - who owned the trailer and was to be our guide, and his son Chris. I had watched my Dad leave to go hunting each fall since I could remember, had seen the freezer filled with venison after he returned. Hunting was the time when the men gathered together. Brad and I were 12, and this was our first time to go along, even though we weren't to carry guns.