by Slim Randles
“Mavis, dear, is that coffee HOT this morning?”
“Sure is, Windy.”
“Well then, slaver a bunch of it in a cup and flop it down here in front of a freezin’ guy, would you? Thanks, Hon.”
“Freezing, Windy?”
“Ain’t the first time, Doc, but they never seem any easier as I get older.”
“You want to come in for a checkup later?”
“Naw, just need to get warm, you know. Used to it at my age.”
Steve set his cup down and looked at his old pard, Windy Wilson, camp cook and mule packer extraordinaire. “Don’t know how you can get cold on a summer morning like this.”
“It’s the air tempa-choor, Steve. You recomlect that time you ‘n me was up in the high country and got caught in a snowstorm …”
“And our slickers and jackets were back in camp? Sure I remember that. I thought about how to get that horse into my bedroll that night, ‘cuz he was cold, too.”
“And you ‘member how good that Dutch oven cobbler tasted once we got the circle-lationaries goin’ again?”
“You betcha, Windy.”
“Okay … okay … I’ll do it,” mumbled Doc. “Somebody has to. Windy, we’ve known each other a long time, right?”
“Sure have.”
“And do you really think a temperature of 90 degrees outside will make a guy cold? Cause it’s going to be 90 later on. Even the fish in Lewis Creek are sweating.”
“No Doc. I don’t look at it that way. Sure, it’s already hot and it’s a-gonna get hotter, you bet. But that’s where friends come in.”
We all turned to stare at Windy.
“See, a friend is a guy who tells you it’s the opporsit so’s you can start your day cooled off a bit. You know … think SNOW!”
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