Slim Randles

Windy’s friends and neighbors started the day off as usual, smiles and waves to each other. But then a change occurred when they heard the first announcement on the Gates of Heaven Chinese Restaurant’s loudspeaker car.

“Let’s get your day started down at the Mule Barn with a short stack and a cuppa joe that’ll jest flat spring yore eyes wide open. Thass always a good idear, campers, and you can tell ‘em hello from ol’ Windy while you’re there.

“And speakin’ of Windy, continentally a-course, don’t forget to write someone in one a-them fancy universalies ‘bout ‘wardin’ your pal Alphonse Wilson one a-them honorary college degrees. Thass right. ‘Bout time to honorific them guys all over cow country who can cook you up a meal from nothin’ but a cow call and a gentle breeze. And coffee that’ll reorgandize yore medulla obligation.

“Then, a-course, you’re gonna need somethin’ to read, right?” The sound was fading away fast.

“So ya jest whup and spur on down to the Read Me Now bookstore and ask for 

Sarah McKinley. You’ll know her … right off … ‘cuz she’s the only one in there and that means you’ll have some uncompromotin’ quiet time to do some book lookin.’

The people strolling on the town’s sidewalks started smiling then as they continued toward the Baptist Church. But every time they heard a car engine, they became slightly furtive. Yeah, that was it. Furtive and friendly. And as each neighbor was shushed and sent in the door to the church by Pastor Don, the furtivity – hey, it might be a word – and smiles hooked onto a feeling of conspiracy, but in a happy way. 

This was one meeting Windy wasn’t invited to.