Sneaking on the Prairie

I was at my first Prairie Party with my friend/roommate/almost-sister, Debbie (she of the laughing eyes and sparkly personality), and my new boyfriend.

It was . . . rather exciting.

Even though the weather had been uncharacteristically iffy.

And was continuing in the same vein throughout the evening.

There was a crowd of farm/ranch kids all talking and laughing around a huge campfire, periodically opening umbrellas when the heavy overhead clouds shook out a few drops or hustling into the nearby camp kitchen if the rain increased.

Many remained sitting in the shelter, pouring drinks, eating chips, popcorn, nuts and the inevitable and still popular, gumdrops.

Which, as the liquor flowed and sanity decreased, seemed to be used mostly for target practice.

My new boyfriend and I, both non-drinkers, were sitting in his truck, one of several parked in a semi-circle around the kitchen providing light on the obviously moonless night. 

Talking.

No, really. We were talking.

He was showing me his new knife and my mind was a confused whirl of blade belly, AUS 8 Steel, bevel, edge, tang, bolster and anodization.

I was discovering that he was a lot of fun and very clever.

He was discovering that I laughed a lot.

Suddenly, his head snapped around toward the kitchen. “Look,” he said, nodding.

I turned.

A shadow was making its way toward us.

Sliding between cars and generally giving the impression of cautious-ness.

It slid quickly through a beam of light and dove once more into the shadows.

But that quick flash of light disclosed just who was sneaking.

Debbie.

The two of us watched as she continued in our direction.

Finally, she left the shelter of the car just to our left and, crouching, made her way directly in front of the truck we were sitting in.

My boyfriend waited for just a moment . . .

Then, grinning widely, honked the horn.